The Rebel Loyalist
by Rosemary-NZ
Summary: A/N - this is my 'Tavington and Lyra' Story, re-imagined. Tavington SEDUCES rather than coerces. Its a much nicer story. Fuller explanation inside - I hope you give the story a chance! "Ambitious and jealous Colonel William Tavington meets Lyra Mathan, a timid young Loyalist woman trying to escape her brutal rebel Stepfather, and he offers to help her reach Charles Town." Mature!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N - I am working on 'Tavington and Lyra', which is the true version of this story, so if you are reading this message for the first time, please be aware that I am uncertain what I am going to do with THE REBEL LOYALIST - if I will leave it uploaded or if I delete it. It will be continued, either way, but probably under 'Tavington and Lyra'. I will post a chapter some time in the future, but for now I recommend you read 'Tavington and Lyra', for that one will be continued regularly. As I said, it is the true version of this story and I have been rewriting it, so there are quite a few changes. _

Synopsis for Tavington and Lyra

_*STORY HAS BEEN HEAVILY REWORKED* The Green Dragoons target the families of known rebel militiamen, beating, bloodying and raping their way across the Santee to draw Martin out of hiding. In an attempt to escape her abusive stepfather, Lyra Mathan heads for Charles Town and is almost safely out of the Santee when Tavington comes across her and orders her taken captive. Adults only._

**The Rebel Loyalist**

Chapter One - Meeting Colonel Tavington

The day had dawned clear and crisp, the sun was shining brightly.

_Perfect day for more traveling, _Lyra thought, eyeing the uncomfortable seat on the wagon warily. _I wish the seat had cushions! _Her bottom was still sore from being jostled around on the wagon the day before and she had another long day of being jostled to look forward to.

Mrs. Bryant, Lyra's former governess and only friend in the world, estimated they could make to Charles Town before evening at the slow rate they were traveling. It usually only took one day to reach Charles Town from Lyra's farm, but Lyra and Mrs. Bryant were taking the trip slowly and stopping frequently.

Yesterday, around late afternoon, the two women had come across an inviting looking farmstead, and decided to stop early and see if they could bed there for the night. The farmwife, Mary was her name, had given them a place to sleep on the floor before the fireplace.

Mary had been kind to Lyra in a wary, nervous sort of way. Lyra understood completely, she herself was wary of strangers, times being what they were. The war made relations between Loyalists and Patriots very strained indeed, especially out here in the back country.

Lyra knew the farmwife, Mary, must have been a Patriot, while she herself had been raised as a Loyalist. Lyra remembered sitting in her grandfather's lap as a little girl, listening to all the stories of his beloved home. He had come out to the Colonies to claim an inheritance and he fell in love with a wealthy colonial woman. They decided to live in the Colonies rather than move to England, though Lyra knew how much he had missed his homeland. She had grown up enchanted by his stories and longed to visit England herself one day.

Lyra, Mrs, Bryant and Mary spent most of the evening in silence after Lyra's brief explanation that she was traveling to the safety of the next village, Pembroke, to wait out the war - the story Mrs. Bryant invented.

Mrs. Bryant advised it would be best not to mention traveling to Charles Town at all, it would mark them as Loyalists, the town being under British control - no Patriot would be traveling there now. Loyalists had been accosted on the road many times in recent months, it was safer to keep silent.

She had two reasons to be making the trip. Now that Lyra was eighteen, she was finally able to claim her inheritance. Her father had died when she was just a little girl, and he had left her a small income of her own. Then her Mother, Claire, passed away early last year and she had left Lyra the luxurious Manor house in Charles Town.

Her mother had remarried, shortly after Lyra's father had passed away, and her new husband turned out to be a violent drunk, and a ferocious gambler. He squandered her mother's wealth, there was no money left to be awarded to Lyra in the Will – only the Manor itself. Escaping her brutal stepfather, Thomas Smith was the second reason to be making the trip.

Mrs. Bryant's plan for Lyra was simple. Make a break for Charles Town, claim her birthright, sell the Manor, purchase a smaller house and, most importantly, find a husband – all before Lyra's stepfather forced her to marry him. He wanted access to her inheritance, as well.

Lyra loathed the part of the plan that would see her house sold, she loved that house! And although she had not seen it since she was eight years old, it was home to her, it held the happiest memories of her life, her childhood before her father had died. She wanted to live there again, not sell it.

Their opportunity for escape came recently, and although Lyra was terrified, Mrs. Bryant was determined to take it.

In the last few months, some very rough looking men had been calling on Thomas at their little farmstead, encouraging him to ride with them. Lyra knew they were up to no good, she often heard them talking about attacking the British, their supply lines and the officers themselves. Lyra knew that Thomas had killed many of them, he had become a part of the Patriot rebel militia reeking havoc in the back country.

Thomas would leave with the rebel Militiamen, for days at first, then for weeks at a time. He had been gone for three weeks straight this time. It had been bliss for Lyra since he left – he had a brutal temper and she often bore the brunt of his anger. He had started approaching Lyra in her bedroom, and if she baulked at doing the things he wanted he would become violent toward her.

Her Stepfather's rough treatment of her made Lyra quite a timid soul. This escape frightened her half to death. She was terrified of what would happen on the road, worried Thomas would discover she had left, too scared to stay on the farm and continue on as they had. She was also terrified of what awaited her in Charles Town, she had been far away from society, for such a long time after all. Would she even know how to behave?

Mrs. Bryant assured her that her manners were impeccable, and she should know, having been the one overseeing her education. Lyra wondered when Mrs. Bryant had been paid her wages last, probably not since before Lyra's mother had died. She suspected Mrs. Bryant had remained with Lyra more out of their close friendship, not wanting to abandon Lyra to Thomas' mercies.

It was time to set out for the day, and Lyra was thanking for her kindness and bidding her farewell at her door, when the sound of thunder caught Lyra's attention.

_There is not a cloud in the sky!_

The thunderous noise was getting closer. All three women looked with wariness towards the sound, and could see great clouds of dust rising from the ground, coming closer. Then they could see them, men on horseback. Lyra stared in consternation, worried that her stepfather had discovered she had gone and had followed.

But no, these men were all dressed in uniform - Redcoats, and they stuck to a rigid formation. Lyra stopped trying to count how many men there were - she kept losing her place, they were moving so fast. There were at least ninety and there was a banner rising from their midst, but Lyra had no idea who the banner represented. Suddenly, Mary gave a terrified gasp, then turned and ran for the woods!

"Mrs. Bryant?" Lyra asked, turning to her older friend with growing fright.

"They are wearing Redcoats, Lyra. You come from a Loyalist family, and are trying to make your way to Charles Town. I doubt you have anything to fear from these soldiers, just do not mention Thomas. These are the Green Dragoons, unless I miss my guess. Which makes their leader Colonel Tavington."

Her voice was calm, so Lyra fought for calm as well. They had heard so much about Colonel Tavington's exploits, but it was all from her Stepfather and the rebel perspective.

There was no point in running. She knew that. Her feet wanted to take flight, but she stiffened her spine and held her ground as the Dragoon's bore down toward her. Some split off, and went into the woods after the fleeing woman.

Lyra felt bile rise in her mouth, as the Dragoon's circled the house, some dismounting to approach her. The one with the stripes indicating his rank as Colonel strode up the steps toward her.

He was an imposing man, tall, far taller than Lyra, with a regal, arrogant bearing. His hair was dark, his eyes a cold light blue.

She felt she would vomit with fear – his face was as cold and hard as stone. He radiated power, strength, and confidence. And anger. There seemed to be a slow burning fury loosely leashed beneath his cold façade.

"Your name?" he had asked crisply when he stood before her, his eyes seemed to take her in from head to toe.

"Lyra Mathan," She had replied, with her hands pressed to her stomach. Her voice sounded thin and reedy to her ears. "Sir, are you Colonel Tavington?"

He stared at her coldly, his eyes still roaming over her. Mrs. Bryant had told Lyra many times how beautiful she was, with her long white curly hair, her dark green eyes, her full lips and soft pale skin. She had not encountered many men though, out on the farm, so it was very disconcerting having this man's eyes rove over her so.

He did not answer her, instead barking his own questions, "Where are the rebels, Miss Mathan? How many are there? Where is the Ghost?" His voice was so cold, held so much threat. He stepped closer to stand over her. Lyra thought he had already decided that she knew the answers and she sensed he would do whatever it took to get them.

She stared at him, wide eyed, suddenly glad of Mrs. Bryant's advice to not mention her stepfather. She answered in a small voice, "I do not know, Sir. My governess and I have been on the road for a full day already now, trying to make our way to my house in Charles Town. I do not know anything about the rebels, or the Ghost."

He nodded, taking in her words. Turning on his heel, he commanded, "Fire the house, and destroy the livestock. Bring her."

"Wait!" She cried out with fear, stepping forward. She was sorry for Mary's house and livestock, but that was not what frightened her.

_Bring me where?_

He turned back to her, eyebrows raised contemptuously; his knowing expression seemed to ask, _"ready to talk now, are we?"_

"Sir," she tried again. "I am telling you the truth. I am a Loyalist – "

He glanced at a fellow Dragoon, and snorted.

"I have lost count of the amount of times I have heard that," His fellow Dragoon chuckled, nodding agreement. Tavington considered her coolly for a moment, then commanded quietly, "find something to gag her with."

He turned and strode away.

She could not believe it – the Dragoon reached for her, and one came forward for Mrs. Bryant, who was protesting loudly. Lyra felt her world falling apart, and she panicked when the soldier started to push a wad of cloth into her mouth. Lyra had never protected herself before, beyond putting her hands up to cover her face when her Stepfather beat her. So she was utterly surprised when she grabbed the soldier's arm and sunk her teeth into his gloved hand.

He yelled with shock and pain, snatching his hand back.

She had not even seen Colonel Tavington return – suddenly she was spun about and in a flash of agony she found herself on the ground staring up at him. He had sent her reeling with the back of his hand.

Lyra recoiled when she looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear. His face was set in an expression of fury, and his hand was raised back ready to hit her again.

Instead he let his arm fall slowly and knelt down beside her. His face was still grim, but had lost some of its fury.

He gently trailed his finger down the side of her cheek where he had struck her, and stared at her with his cold blue eyes as if he was trying to soak in her features.

He shook his head, then abruptly unwound the white scarf encircling his neck, and roughly shoved it into her mouth, tying it around her head. She tried to push his arms away as they worked, but he was strong, and she felt so very weak with fear.

"Put her on the back of your horse, Lieutenant." Colonel Tavington ordered coldly, and the Lieutenant jerked her to her feet and led her away.

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It was close to mid day, when Tavington ordered the column to halt for a brief rest. When she dismounted, the Dragoon whose horse she shared untied Tavington's scarf. The soldier had not spoken to her on their ride, which Lyra was just as happy about.

She had bitten the man! She still could not believe her audacity.

Lyra had seen so much horror while riding with the Dragoons, farmsteads were fired, livestock destroyed, people attacked and killed, another girl captured. There were four girls now, including Lyra, riding fearfully on the back of Dragoon horses.

Two of the girls, Lyra discovered during their brief stop, had already been in the hands of the Dragoon's since the night before. They sat silently, staring into space with haunted expressions, only speaking when prompted. Lyra and the new girl sat silently as well, both full of apprehension.

Mrs. Bryant was nowhere to be seen, Lyra was very fearful for her, as well.

Lyra studied Tavington from the corner of her eye as he moved briskly about the camp. She was grateful that Tavington ignored the captives for the most part, except to glance their way occasionally. She averted her eyes whenever he glanced over, and was not sure if it was her imagination that gave her the feeling that his eyes settled on her and her alone out of the captive women. It was an unsettling thought.

She had not been so frightened of anyone since her Stepfather left. Now there was a brute… The most despicable of men, he had beat her mother mercilessly many a time before her death, and when Lyra turned sixteen he started coming to her bed. It lasted for two horrible years, until he left with the rebels. Mrs. Bryant assured her she was still a maid, the things she did with her Stepfather had not taken her virginity.

She shuddered to think about it – tried to push the memories away. He was gone now, Lyra was free of him.

Tavington though… He seemed even more frightful than her stepfather. He had a coldness to him, an anger he kept under careless control, and he had already proven he could unleash it without care.

Lyra pushed away the foreboding in her belly, and finished her plate of food, and her drink. She was not sure when they would eat again, and although the food tasted like ashes in her mouth, she resolved to eat every bite.

"What is your name?" Lyra asked one of the girls, just to fill in the silence. She suddenly felt the need to know them, these women, her fellow captives.

"Claire," came the quiet reply.

"Claire - that was my mother's name." Lyra said, trying to keep fear from her voice. She doubted she could cheer them, any more than she herself could be cheered under the strained circumstances.

"Was it? My mother's name is Mage. I wish I was with her now..." The girl started to weep, and Lyra stood up, to put her arms around her.

"Why are they doing this?" One of the other girls whispered. "They are evil. Last night was... They are evil." She finished quietly, bending her head to her lap. The fourth girl did not speak at all.

"I do not know why they are doing this. I wish I could tell you all will be well, but..."

"You are in it with us... You must be as scared as I am."

"Terrified..." Lyra confessed quietly.

"What is your name?" Claire asked.

"Lyra. We were traveling, on our way to Pembroke when we were taken by the Dragoons." Lyra decided to keep to Mrs. Bryant's story.

"I know," said the other girl who had spoken. "I saw - we were at the back of the column but... I saw him hit you."

"Who hit you?" Claire asked, her weeping had subsided.

"Tavington," the other girl replied for Lyra. "My name is Martha, by the way. For what it is worth."

"It is worth a lot, Martha..." Lyra assured her, then turned to the girl who had not spoken. The girl met Lyra's eyes, then sighed.

"Hope." She answered Lyra's silent question quietly.

Lyra said nothing.

_Hope..._ She thought. _We do not have a lot of that right now._

Lyra looked up at a sound behind her, then gasped and recoiled in fright. Tavington was looking down at her coolly.

"Miss Mathan? Walk with me." He said crisply, he took several steps away then turned to wait for her, his arms hooked behind his back.

Lyra met the other girls eyes fearfully as she pulled her arm from Claire's shoulders. She stood on unsteady legs and walked toward Tavington, who led her away from the girls.

"It seems you spoke the truth earlier," he began, as he continued to lead the way further from the other girls. "I have spoken to Captain Wilkins - he is a Loyalist Militiaman and he seems to know you - or your family, in any case. I assure you, as a Loyalist from a distinguished family, you will not not come to any harm while you are with us."

He stopped when they reached the Dragoon Lyra had bitten.

"Lieutenant Richards will be in charge of taking care of you. It is time to ride out again now, have you finished eating?"

She nodded, too stunned to speak.

"Is there anything you need?"

She shook her head, unable to think clearly.

"Do you have any questions?" His tone had not changed, cool but polite.

She shook her head again.

"I will take my leave of you, we will make camp tonight and discuss your situation then. Lieutenant, I will leave Miss Mathan in your care." Tavington nodded at Lyra, then turned briskly and strode away.

_I'm so daft! I should have asked about Mrs. Bryant! _Lyra suddenly realized, when she was on the back of Lieutenant Richards horse._ I will ask him tonight._

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two - The Green Eyed Beauty

Tavington strode through the bustling camp with evening fast approaching. He paused here and there to give an order, or to listen to questions and provide instructions. He glanced over toward the captive women occasionally, there were three of them now, all from rebel families.

He had kept Miss Mathan apart from the other women, from the moment he had spoken to Captain Wilkins, who corroborated Miss Mathan's story. Wilkins had recognized the girl's family name, and thought her story sounded familiar.

Tavington had found himself quite captivated by the young women, from the first moment he had set eyes on her. Of course, he thought she had been lying, and when she bit Lieutenant Richards, he had not hesitated to strike her. But he had regretted acting so rashly, when he looked down at her, weeping and fearful on the ground before him. She had seemed quite fragile, and he knew he was only lashing out at her because of his fury and disappointment at his failure to draw the rebels out.

Tavington looked other at the captive women again, with a look of resolve.

_This will draw out the Ghost and his rebels, _he thought, though he did not relish the need to use such distasteful measures. He would not indulge in taking the women to his blankets, he had never had to force a woman in his life. Most of his Dragoons felt the same, being gentlemen, family men, whether married or engaged, or with sisters of their own.

But there were three Dragoons with less morals than their comrades, and they would not balk at the unpleasant task ahead of them. Tavington blamed the rebels, and this Ghost for forcing his hand, forcing him to take such extreme measures.

Still, he would do what needed to be done. The Ghost must be caught at all costs.

For the last week, Colonel William Tavington and his Green Dragoons, had been visiting the farmsteads of known rebels, based on the intelligence given to him by his Loyalist Militia. Their mission was to raid farmsteads, killing livestock, killing the rebel's family members, and capturing much needed horses. His unmerciful tactics would leave devastation in his wake.

Tavington continued his slow inspection of the camp, his eyes falling on Captain James Wilkins. He had not regarding the man highly initially, having been part of the Loyalist Militia here in the colonies before being recruited by Lord General Cornwallis himself. But the man had proven loyal and indispensable, his extensive knowledge of the area and of its inhabitants was invaluable. It was because of Wilkins, that the Dragoons were able to identify the family homes of the rebel militia with ease.

Despite the destruction Tavington had caused, he had not managed to draw the rebel militia out. The morning before, he had given the order to start capturing women at random, with the hope that the rebels would finally respond. They had taken two young women captive yesterday, and Tavington had unleashed the three Dragoons of low morals upon them.

Tavington had lain awake on his pallet for most of the night, listening to the rutting Dragoons and the crying women, waiting for the rebels to attempt a rescue. He was angry and disappointed when dawn came without incident.

His eyes again fell on Miss Lyra Mathan. Tavington decided he would not spend another night alone on his bedroll, he was an expert in seduction, he had it down to a fine art and he had no doubt the young woman would succumb to his charms.

_Such a beautiful, frightened little thing,_ he thought to himself,_ though it did not stop her from biting Lieutenant Richards' hand when he tried to gag her. _Tavington drew a deep breath – his member had been hard ever since he first laid eyes on her. He smiled, remembering his first sight of her. Tendrils of her white blonde hair peaking out from under her cap, her bright green eyes, beautiful heart shaped face, lovely figure. She was dressed far better than the other captive women, and her manners indicated a woman of quality. She had also been accompanied by her former governess, which in itself indicated wealth.

But there was still the puzzle of how she came to be out here, along the Santee, in known Patriot territory.

Miss Mathan was quietly eating her meal with Lieutenant Richards, she did not seem as fearful as she had earlier in the day. Tavington was tempted to join them, but he did not want to flirt with the girl in front of Richards, who looked to be quite protective of the girl.

Miss Mathan had been obviously terrified when the Dragoons had arrived at the farmstead that morning, and yet she had held her ground - not running as the farmwife had. Again, he regretted striking her, he had lost his temper far too quickly due to his sleepless night, and knew it would make his seductions that much more difficult, but he had faith in his abilities to charm.

He had fallen in love with this country as soon as he set foot on its soil - so much fresher, brighter, more colorful than home. Miss Mathan reminded him of everything that was beautiful about this place.

It even smelled better here than home. The colonials themselves left a lot to be desired, but the country in which they habited... Tavington had already decided he would not be returning to England when the war was won. He expected there to be rewards given for valor and victory, and he hoped he would be given enough to live a decadent life here in the Colonies.

Tavington was pleased her story had turned out to be true. Though he did not mind sporting with willing rebel women, he certainly did not want to be made a fool of, if he believed the girl and she was deceiving him.

Captain Bordon approached him. "The camp is secure Sir. The fortifications are in place, as you commanded and there are ten sentries in place - I've set a two hour rotation throughout the night. I've also taken the liberty of lighting more fires outside of the camp; hopefully we will be more visible and inviting than last night."

"Excellent work, Bordon. Have the captive women bought some food; it is going to be another long night for them."

_::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::_

Chapter Three - Tavington the Charmer

Tavington set up his and the young woman's bedroll on the outer edge of the camp, as far from the other Dragoons as he could, desiring a little privacy. He wanted Miss Mathan to be far from the rebel women, so she would not hear them. He had seen her trying to comfort them earlier in the day, if her sympathies where with them, then he had his work cut out for him.

He settled down with some food and drink, chatting with Bordon, Thompson and a few other officers. The Officers where laying bets; on whether or not the rebels would come to retrieve their women during the night.

Tavington sniffed, "I certainly hope they attack, I have no wish to have the lengths we have gone to wasted."

Bordon nodded gravely. "The men are on alert, Sir. It will be a nasty fight, if they do come tonight."

"Nasty but necessary. I will do what needs to be done." Tavington replied briskly. "For now, however, it is time I questioned Miss Mathan."

"Question..." Jutland smirked. "Is that what you are calling it? I've seen the way you've been looking at her, Colonel. You're being selfish, keeping that one to yourself."

Tavington snickered, "You know I don't like to share my toys, Jutland. Besides, she would be wasted on you… Speaking of Miss Mathan, Jutland, why don't you go and fetch her for me?"

He stretched where he sat, feigning a yawn. "I think it's time for bed."

"Now I have to fetch her for you as well? The injustice…" Jutland quipped, getting up to do his Colonel's bidding.

Tavington was well satisfied, walking over to his bedroll. He enjoyed having what other men wanted, especially women.

Night was upon them now, though the moon was bright. He could make out Jutland and Miss Mathan heading toward him. His member stiffened with anticipation of the seduction ahead.

"Just step through here, miss," Jutland was saying. She stood still, obviously frightened.

Tavington stepped forward and held out his hand, "Come, Miss Mathan." He said warmly.

Lyra stepped forward slowly, her heart was pounding with fear and nerves. The Colonel was waiting patiently and unthreateningly for her to take his hand, Lyra put her shaking hand in his and stood before him. She bowed her head, eyes fixed on the ground.

His voice came to her as though from very far away, breaking through her fear.

"Do not be so fearful, I am not going to hurt you." He said in a quiet, husky voice. He wanted to kiss her but restrained himself, waiting until the time was right.

He now knew for a certainty that it had been a mistake to leave her with the other women earlier in the day, he would have to take his seductions carefully, slowly. Though he knew his efforts would be worth it.

Lyra finally looked up, meeting his eyes. "You did earlier - you struck me." She said it quietly, but it was a challenge, none the less. She had spent the whole day in a state of fear, only slightly lessened earlier when he had assured her she would not be harmed.

She lowered her eyes again, as soon as she said the words, but instead of the angry response she had been expecting, Colonel Tavington gently traced his finger along her cheek, where the blow had landed. Lyra was shocked, Thomas was never gentle after his violent outbursts.

"I hope you will forgive me for striking you, Miss Mathan, I should not have. In my defense, you _were_ attacking one of my senior officers..." He smiled down at her, and Lyra felt her fear start to ease.

"It was hardly an attack, and he is a grown man, after all."

"You were _biting_ him...! But perhaps you are right, Lieutenant Richards is a grown man and can defend himself even against such a feisty wildcat."

_Me? A feisty wildcat? Hardly..._ Although it felt nice to hear, she knew she definitely could not be considered 'feisty'. She still had no idea what had come over her.

"Let's sit down, Miss Mathan. I would like to hear your story... How does a Loyal young lady come to be stranded in the back country?" He led her to the bedroll and sat down, after a moments hesitation Lyra sat down beside him, he had not let go his gentle hold on her hand.

"My mother moved out this way from Charles Town, with her new husband - my Stepfather. She remarried after my father died, when I was still just a little girl. She succumbed to an illness early last year, leaving me her manor house, our family home in Charles Town." Lyra's breath caught when Tavington gave her hand a squeeze, then wrapped his fingers through hers, with a look of sympathy on his face. She went on a little breathlessly, "I had to wait until I was eighteen years to claim my inheritance, but I am old enough now. I can finally go home."

"I see, what a sad tale!" He gently brushed back a stray curl with his other hand, and Lyra's face flushed. She was not used to such gentle treatment and Colonel Tavington was really rather handsome, she realized now that her fear was almost gone.

"I need Mrs. Bryant, though, Sir - I cannot get there without her. Can you tell me what happened to her? I have not seen her since the farm and I've been so worried for her."

"Your Mrs. Bryant is fine, Miss Mathan," Tavington said, leaning forward to almost brush his lips against her neck before pulling away again.

_Slower_... Tavington admonished himself. He was having a hard time restraining himself from kissing her, wanting the feel of her lips against his.

"You will see her tomorrow."

"Is she..." Lyra's flush deepened at his close proximity. She looked down, unable to finish her question, suddenly even more fearful for Mrs. Bryant than she had been all day.

"She is perfectly safe, Miss Mathan," Tavington said, tilting her face up to meet his eyes. "She has two guards for her own protection and will be treated well. Lieutenant Richards is one of her guards..."

"He has been nice to me all day... But - I bit him! Do you think he is still angry?"

"Richards is a good man," Tavington smiled, squeezing her hand gently to allay her concerns. "And has suffered a lot worse in his service to the Crown. He was probably just grateful you were not holding a knife."

"Oh, I would never..." She stopped when she saw his smile, he was teasing her, she realized and gave him a tentative smile in return.

"That's better," he said warmly, "you do not need to fear me. It is dangerous out in these parts with the rebel activity, I am considering escorting you to Charles Town."

"Truly?" Lyra asked, stunned. "But I thought... Those girls..."

"No, Miss Mathan, you will not share their fate. As I told you, I have spoken to Captain Wilkins, and he has assured me that you are of a Loyalist family. My duty is clear, I will do what I can to protect you and see you safely home."

"Thank you, Colonel!" Lyra whispered, her green eyes open wide with astonishment. "This is such a relief! I thought... But - those poor girls! Surely you could stop them from being hurt?"

"No." Tavington said coolly - suddenly stern. "My duty is clear there too, Miss Mathan. I must find the rebels, and this Ghost, and will do as I must to draw him in, no matter how distasteful. They must be stopped."

Lyra looked down and swallowed suddenly wishing he was smiling again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three - Tavington the Charmer

"You are very beautiful, Miss Mathan." Tavington murmured, he caressed her cheek again, as he stared at her lips. Lyra swallowed and breathed deeply, as Tavington leaned close to brush his lips carefully against hers. He was gentle, and his lips felt warm on hers. Lyra began to return the kiss, tilting her head up to his.

_Finally!_ Tavington thought with triumph, as he put his arms around her, pressing her close.

Lyra sighed, surprised at how nice it felt. Her Stepfather had always been so rough, and he always reeked of drink and sweat. Tavington was entirely different. He smelled of horse, and yes of sweat, but not unpleasantly so. It was not a stale reek, it was actually rather intoxicating.

His lips barely caressed her bottom lip, then her top, back to her bottom. He seemed so patient, content to hold her in the circle of his arms. Instead of feeling like a trapped and frightened bird, she felt, for the first time in her life, safe - protected.

Her fear was completely gone, she had given herself over to the pleasant sensations. She was surprised when she felt thrilling flips, like butterflies fluttering, in her stomach and along her spine. Her hands trailed along Tavington's neck of their own volition, touching his cheeks and then back up to run over his unbound hair.

She sighed again and Tavington's own breathing became heavier as he kissed her more deeply. When his tongue touched hers, Lyra shivered with surprise and pleasure. The butterflies became a warm sensation that spread across her stomach.

Lyra pulled back slightly and softly breathed, "It feels so nice..."

"Your first kiss?" He asked quietly, his hands running along her back, and she nodded.

_My first true kiss, anyway..._

Tavington smiled broadly, she thought he seemed very pleased.

"I want to see you with your hair down, may I?" Tavington asked, as he started to remove her cap. Lyra made no protest and he pulled the pins from her hair.

Tavington leaned back to gaze at her, her unbound hair framed her face, it was curly and long.

Simply beautiful." He breathed, gently running his fingers through the curls.

Lyra felt too embarrassed to reply, but she found herself wanting more of his sweet compliments and even sweeter kisses.

"Lay down on the bedroll." He murmured in a thick voice, his lips nuzzling at her neck. She stared at him in consternation, her fear returning.

_He is truly handsome, _she found herself thinking, _those eyes... But he did not hesitate to hit me, back at the farm. _Lyra pulled back for a moment, his eyes were fixed on hers, warm and expectant, but she needed to gather herself. She swallowed, forcefully reminding herself that she was not safe, she did not even know this man!

But he was gazing at her so warmly, as though he was trying to soak in her beauty, his fingers still gently caressing her white curls.

"You won't hit me again, will you?" She asked uncertainly, trying to keep the quaver out of her voice. She could not reconcile this gentle, warm man with the cold, stern and violent one of earlier.

"No, Miss Mathan," he said, shaking his head regretfully. He laid down on his back and folded his arms under his head, while she stayed sitting beside him. "I was hoping you had forgiven me. I assure you, it will not happen again. I was awake for most of last night, waiting for the rebels to attack, I woke this morning both tired and frustrated." Tavington decided a little familiarity may warm her toward him again, he reached over his body to take her hand again.

"Lyra, I am not offering you excuses, but at least you will understand, I hope." Tavington smiled, the use of her name had the desired affect, she looked startled then pleased, finally laying down beside him.

Tavington shifted onto his side with satisfaction, his seduction was going exceedingly well so far.

"You have the most extraordinary eyes, Lyra. Such a deep green! They remind me of the emerald my Grandmother used to wear. She wore it every where, and never took it off.." He traced his fingers along her face, with another smile.

_She is not used to such compliments, the poor dear has flushed red again. _He leaned toward her with a smile, to resume their slow kissing.

Lyra wrapped her arms around Tavington's neck again, again losing herself to the sensations building within her. She made no protest when his hand moved over her bodice, then lower to span her stomach. After a little while he moved his hand lower, until it nestled between her legs through her skirts. She gasped, unsure if she should be stopping him, it all felt so wonderful! The kisses, the sensations in her stomach and now the feeling coming from her centre. She had never felt anything like it, it was so gentle, warm and loving. She decided not to stop him.

Tavington pressed his palm harder against her and was rewarded when she gasped against his mouth and moved her hips up against his hand.

_Hmm, there we are, she's mine now. _

Throwing caution to the wind, Tavington slowly pulled up her skirts, and placed his hand against her through her stockings. With the extra layers gone, Tavington knew Lyra's pleasure will have increased significantly. Indeed, he was very pleased by her response, her hips were moving against his palm and she could barely control her breathing as he continued to kiss her. His own hardness was straining against his breeches, aching for attention but he ignored his need, for now.

Encouraged by her response, he slowly moved his hand into her stockings, giving her time to make a protest. She made none, though he noticed she watched him warily.

Tavington leaned over her, pressing his lips to hers again, as he guided her legs apart with his hand. He explored her with gently probing fingers and continued to kiss her as he had before, gentle reassuring caresses.

Lyra sighed as his tongue touched hers again, and the butterflies leaped about in her stomach again. She embraced the feeling, it was so wonderful.

Lyra felt his fingers parting her gently, felt them circling her entrance slowly and carefully. She moaned against his mouth, the warmth in her stomach growing, then felt the tip of his finger move inside her. She tensed as she felt it go deeper.

"Just relax," he said huskily between kisses, "I am not going to hurt you."

Lyra took a deep breath, trying to relax around his probing finger. He was right, it did not hurt - she felt the need to push against his finger and nearly cried out with disappointment when he pulled his finger back.

But his fingers glided it up gently along her skin, exploring her folds. This felt nice too, a gentle tickle, a caress. Lyra relaxed onto the bedroll, enjoying the sensations his fingers created.

She had been wary when he had first put his hand in her stockings, with memories of her stepfather, Thomas. He had always been rough when he put his hand between her legs. It was never for her enjoyment, only for the gratification her pain and humiliation had given him. It never occurred to her that she might enjoy having a man touch her, but then again, what Colonel Tavington was doing was entirely different. Lyra pushed thoughts of her stepfather out of her mind; the lovely feeling seemed to abate when her thoughts dwelled on him.

And the lovely feeling was getting stronger by the moment. She sighed, as she started to feel increased warmth and something more intense, under Tavington's fingertips. He caressed her folds, down to her entrance where he circled ever so softly, and back up where he parted her folds, his fingers questing, searching. Lyra gasped in surprise as Tavington pressed her a little more firmly - then started to circle slowly around and around. It was an intense feeling; the place where he was circling was emanating a thrilling warmth. He continually dipped his fingers to her entrance and they felt warm and moist when the resumed their slow circle of the hard place within her folds.

"Ohhhh," Lyra sighed, moving her hips back and forth involuntarily. The warmth she was feeling surged, increasing tenfold, as he moved his fingers faster. It was more than warmth now, a thrilling sensation was spreading through her, she had never felt anything like it before. Her hands gripped his hair tightly; she was so far gone to him that it did not occur to her that she may be hurting him.

"Oh Lord… Ohhh, Colonel… Please… Ohhhh…" She stopped kissing him and started to move her hips more frantically, holding onto his neck for dear life. Tavington stared down at her, watching her face contort with pleasure.

Her breathing was coming in short rasps now and suddenly the warmth and thrill exploded within her, rushing through her body, pulsing and flowing. She bit her lip and pushed her hips up, holding still, as Tavington continued working on her with his fingers.

"Ooooo… Oh god…" She moaned… The sensation pulsed and flowed, then eventually subsided. She collapsed back onto the pallet, gazing up at Tavington with a mixture of awe and adoration.

"Did you find that enjoyable, Sweet Lyra?" Tavington teased, kissing her again. Lyra sighed and nodded. "Am I forgiven, then?"

"Yes..." She said after a moment, when her breathing returned to normal. "As long as you don't do it again."

"I won't," he said, meaning it. He had no desire to cause this beautiful young woman pain. Tavington reached down again, then moved to kneel over her as he slowly pulled down her stockings. He watched her face carefully, and although the wariness was back, she again made no protest

"I need to be inside you Lyra..." He said, moving back over her to cover her body with his own. He worked at the buttons of his breeches, kissing her as he pulled his hard member forth.

"Will it hurt?" she asked in a whisper, seeking reassurance as she wrapped her arms around his neck again.

"Only for a moment," he whispered back. "But you are ready for me..."

He started to kiss her far more deeply than before, while he held still, pressed against her centre, until he could wait no longer.

"Move your legs further apart," he bid her in a husky voice, and she complied. He nudged around as he guided his head to her entrance.

She could feel it prodding back and forth, and Tavington changing his position to get the right angle. Then he pushed forward and back, going deeper inside her with each push.

He pushed forward abruptly, far deeper than before, his full length filled her deeply. He was not rough, but she still felt a surge of pain inside her as her maidenhead tore and broke. They both gasped at the same time, Lyra with the sudden jolt of pain, Tavington with pleasure. He held himself still inside her, allowing her to time to adjust to him.

"Are you ready?" He whispered, correctly judging that her pain had subsided.

Lyra nodded, and Tavington resumed his rhythmic back and forward motion, as he supported himself above her on his arms. His breathing was labored and was coming in rasps.

Lyra was amazed at herself, for letting him do this - she had just lost her virginity! But he was so handsome, and it felt so good. Before long she found herself gripping at Tavington's shirt and neck, biting her lip as that warm sensation started to fill her again.

"Move with me," He breathed in her ear, and she started rocking her hips in time with his. He increased the tempo, continually kissing her and whispering endearments. He hooked her leg up over his shoulder, and Lyra gasped - he was in very deep now and it was almost uncomfortable. She decided she liked it despite the discomfort.

His breath was hot on her ear, and he was moving back and forth to a hard, quick rhythm. She felt his hand gripping her breast through her bodice, kneading firmly.

Lyra ran her hands along his back under his Redcoat, and marveled as his strong muscles bunched and moved with his exertions.

Tavington was moaning low in his throat, making a guttural "ah, uh, ah," with each thrust. He abruptly pushed in deeply and held there, crashing his lips to hers in a long harsh kiss. She pulled her arms from his back, placing her hands on either side of his face to return the kiss with passion. Finally letting out an explosive breath, he subsided, laying his head on her shoulder for some time until his breathing returned to normal.

"Lord, I have wanted to do that with you all day!" He said, as he moved off her to lay alongside her. "Did it hurt as much as you feared?"

Lyra was quiet for some time, considering her answer, then she curled over to face him.

"It wasn't so bad," she said quietly. "It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would."

"I'm glad to hear it," Tavington replied, then smiled. "I quite enjoyed it, myself."

"Where you really wanting to..." Lyra began shyly. "All day?"

"I do not think you realize how beautiful you are, Lyra, if you find that surprising. Come here," Tavington said, pulling her into his arms when she moved closer.

"Why are you traveling alone with Mrs. Bryant, Lyra, surely you must have known how dangerous the roads would be? Where is this stepfather of yours, he should be escorting you, surely?"

Lyra's head was against Tavington's chest, and his fingers where idly running through her unbound hair.

"No, Colonel. The truth is, I am trying to get away from him, he is a violent drunk and will try and claim my inheritance when I have it. He already squandered all of my mother's wealth, save for the house in Charles Town."

"He squandered your mother's money?" Tavington asked incredulously.

She nodded in reply. He was quiet again, so Lyra stopped talking to him, closing her eyes for sleep instead. The night seemed quiet; Lyra could not help but wonder about the other girls. She drifted off to sleep with Clair, Martha and Hope on her mind, feeling unaccountably guilty that she had not had to share their fate, feeling as though she had abandoned them.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four - Mrs. Bryant's anger

Lyra woke up during the night, bursting with the need to relieve herself, but Tavington was sound asleep beside her, snoring softly. His strong arms still hooked loosely around her, and she was not sure what to do. She sat up above him, and nudged his chest gently.

"Colonel...?" She whispered.

His soldier's instincts bought him instantly to full wakefulness.

"What is it, Lyra?" he asked, sitting up and looking around them for danger.

"I need too..." She squirmed, not wanting to say it. "Relieve myself."

"This way," Tavington commanded crisply, rising from the bed roll. He could not help being curt, his first thought upon waking was that the rebels had taken the bait, then disappointment settled in all over again.

_It is not her fault, _he thought, as he took her by her hand and led her into the woods a short way.

Lyra walked around behind a tree and Tavington relieved himself at the same time. When she was finished she walked towards him to lead her back, but instead he took her into his arms. He brushed her hair back, then leaned down to kiss her, pressing her up against a tree. He twined one hand through her hair, and the other moved down her body, lifting her skirts.

"You have made me insatiable, Lyra." He murmured. "We will have to be very quiet, there is an Officer standing sentry not far from here."

"What! Let's go back to our blankets then! What if he hears us!"

Tavington just smiled, her skirts where around her waist now, and his hand was gliding along her thighs and between her legs.

Lyra sighed when his fingers dipped their way to her entrance, she stopped protesting about the nearby Dragoon. She yearned for more of the pleasure he had given her earlier but it was not to be. Tavington lifted her easily, and it became apparent that he was only interested in having his own need sated, as he began nudging his member against her, searching for her entrance.

"Put your legs around my waist," he whispered, guiding her legs around him. She placed her arms around his shoulders as he put his hand down between her legs, guiding his member to her entrance.

He slid inside, their earlier coupling making the way easier. He had no words of endearment for her this time. His hands were on her waist moving her up and down in time with his bucking.

Lyra was disappointed at first, her need was not being seen too and he was not being as loving as earlier. But then he started to kiss her deeply, as his breathing became ragged, his movements more frenzied. As before, he let out an explosive breath, and stilled, spent.

After resting his head on her shoulder for a short time, he pulled free of her, setting her back down on unsteady feet. Tavington pulled her skirts back down and buttoned his breeches, before offering her his hand.

Lyra watched him warily all the while, she found she did not like coupling half so much without the endearing loving whispers. She took his hand and they walked back to the bedroll. When they lay down Tavington took her into his arms again, his hand roaming the length of her body, from her breasts, gliding down over her stomach to between her thighs.

"Your turn," he murmured as he ran his fingers around the same hard spot within her folds as earlier and before long she was pushing up against his fingers, moaning against his mouth as he kissed her, clutching his shoulders, her second ever climax taking over her body.

Lyra collapsed on the bedroll with a contented sigh. She realised the reason he had not pleasured her and whispered his endearments back in the woods was because of her moans - and because of the sentry standing nearby. He was quite loving again, once they were alone.

For the second time that night she fell asleep wrapped in his arms and her head on his chest.

He woke her during the night twice more for lovemaking, she was feeling uncomfortably sore come morning.

The morning dawned clear and cold. Lyra had never slept out of doors before; she was not used to the feel of things crawling all over her during the night. When Colonel Tavington disentangled himself from her and sat up, she reached for him.

"It's cold, Colonel!"

"It is." He agreed. "But it is time to rise, Lyra."

He reached for her long pants where he had discarded them earlier in the night. As he handed them to her, he said "Someone will be along shortly with food for you, we will be riding out early, you need to be ready."

He rose from the bedroll and started dressing himself briskly. Lyra came to full wakefulness and sat up to watch him.

Every movement of his body radiated cool fury – his jerky quick motions, even the way he pulled on his boots. He shoved his arms into his Redcoat, pulled his belt around his waist crisply. His eyes where cold and narrow, his face set like stone..

"Is something wrong, Colonel?" She asked tentatively, fearing she was to blame for his anger. He did not reply, did not even glance at her.

Another Dragoon came over, Captain Bordon, Lyra realized, having seen him the day before. She pulled the blanket up around her, clutching at its folds with embarrassment. He did not glance at her though, affording her some dignity and privacy.

"Sir," Bordon reported. "No sign of the rebels at all. They have not yet taken the bait."

Tavington took a deep breath, rolling his eyes. "I am well aware of that, Bordon." He snapped, crisply. He stood rigid, regarding his Captain with cold eyes. He let out an explosive breath, and started to give his commands as he strode away from Lyra.

"Break camp, we will ride out to the next few farms, and see if we can't flush them out…"

His voice trailed off, he was too far away to hear now. She dressed herself quickly, grateful that she was not the cause of his anger. She knew that the girls the Dragoons had been capturing where the bait of which Bordon spoke. Which meant the rebels would eventually attack the Dragoon's, to rescue their women.

Lyra's stomach twisted with terror, imaging being in the midst of a battle and worry that her Stepfather would be amongst the attacking rebels. She felt desperately horrible for the girls; and wanted them returned to the safety of their families, but...

_Please, Lord, just don't let _**_him _**_be there when it happens_...

A familiar figure was walking toward her, carrying a plate and cup.

"Mrs. Bryant!" Lyra shrieked, jumping up from the bedroll and running to her former governess. She could see Tavington turn to her from the corner of her eye, but she ignored him – her full attention on Mrs. Bryant. Lyra sobbed with relief; to see her friend well.

"I was so worried about you! Colonel Tavington said you were here, and safe, but I still could not help but worry!"

"_You_ were worried for _me_? Good Lord, I've barely _slept_!" Mrs. Bryant fell silent to study her young friend. "Are you well, Lyra? Did he... hurt you?"

"I am well, and no, he did not hurt me."

"Lyra..." Mrs. Bryant was hesitant. How can you ask someone if they have been ravished? Lyra certainly looked well enough. "You slept in his bedroll, though, didn't you?"

"Yes." Lyra answered, she held Mrs. Bryant's eyes.

"Oh, Lyra." Mrs. Bryant shook her head. "Did he force you? If so, we can make a complaint against him when we get to Charles Town, if he ever lets us go -"

"Mrs. Bryant, stop," Lyra took a deep breath, suddenly apprehensive.

_What is she going to think of me?_

"He did not force me, no complaint can be made." There. There words were out. "And he has offered to escort us to Charles Town, Mrs. Bryant. He is a gentleman."

Mrs. Bryant stared at her young friend, then hissed angrily, "that is the most ridiculous thing I have _ever_ heard! A _gentleman_ does not take a young woman's virginity - not unless she is his _wife_! Do you know how much harder this is going to make finding a husband for you? What if he gets you with child? What were you _thinking_!"

"Finding a husband was your idea," Lyra said sullenly, starting at her feet.

Mrs. Bryant took a deep breath, trying to get her temper under control. She could understand why Lyra had done it - if Tavington had been a 'gentleman' to Lyra, she would have fallen into his arms in a heap, after all the ill treatment she had endured from her stepfather.

_It was not her fault, _Mrs. Bryant tried to convince herself. Still... Mrs. Bryant wanted to shake her.

"He took _advantage_ of you! He _seduced_ you! These are not the actions of a _gentleman_! You should still make a complaint against him, as soon as we reach Charles Town! And wasn't it nice of him, to make such an offer? How long will we be riding with him now, how many nights will he be able to show you what a 'gentleman' he is?"

"I don't believe that, that he only made the offer so he can bed me! He is doing it because he knows we are Loyalists and - "

"Oh for goodness sake!" Mrs. Bryant snapped. "Because we are Loyalists. Of course. Nothing to do with you being a beautiful and _willing_ young woman!" Mrs. Bryant wished she could take the words back as soon as they left her mouth.

Lyra's eyes opened wide with pain and offense, and she turned from Mrs. Bryant on the pretense of pulling on her boots. The older woman sighed dramatically, feeling remorse over hurting her foolish young friend.

"Well, at least I can help you with one thing, Lyra. When it became apparent that Thomas was such a brute, your mother did not want to have a child to him. So I used to make her a tonic - a brew that would stop her belly from swelling. I remember exactly how it was made - I can make it for you, if you wish."

Lyra nodded. "Yes, that may be for the best, if you don't mind."

Mrs. Bryant put her arms around Lyra. "I'm sorry, I should not have said that - about you being willing. But that man! He is not innocent of wrong doing, Lyra. I hope you aren't too enamored of him to see that. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing. He deliberately seduced you!"

Then she sighed, "but, done is done, I suppose."

"I have some news," Lyra said, desperate to change the subject, not wanting to admit that she was, indeed quite enamored of Colonel Tavington. "He is expecting the rebels to attack them, that is why they were gathering those girls - as bait..."

"Ah, yes," Mrs. Bryant scoffed. "The actions of a true gentleman. I am liking that man more and more."

Lyra ignored her. "Don't you see? If Thomas is with the rebels when they attack!"

"Oh, Lord! You are right! Oh... no..."

"What are we to do? Should I tell the Colonel? What if Thomas thinks I am one of the girls that need 'rescuing'? I could be back in his hands by the end of the day!" Lyra was starting to feel hysterical, now she was voicing her worries aloud.

"No. You were not honest to begin with, what will he say now? He may not believe you are a Loyalist after all, and if he thinks you have deceived him... He is a very dangerous man, Lyra, far more dangerous than Thomas. Don't think for one moment that he is not. No, silence is our best weapon, for now."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five - The Farmstead of Thomas Smith

Fury seemed to be a constant companion for Tavington, these last few months. He kept it under control, but occasionally, like this morning, it erupted.

He barked orders out quickly as he strode through the camp, and the Dragoons leapt to obey. In very short order the camp was packed and cleared, fires doused, the captive women again mounted behind their Dragoon guards toward the back of the column, Lyra and Mrs. Bryant he placed in the middle, away from the other girls.

_The Ghost must have an extremely tight rein on his men, _Tavington thought with grudging respect. _They obviously mean to ambush and rescue their women on the ground of their choosing._

His path would be far clearer if he knew the identity of the Ghost himself – an attack on the rebel leader would be far more effective than the attacks on his men had proven to be.

The Ghost himself was proving very elusive to capture indeed.

Tavington had had some success recently, he had set up an ambush of his own and managed to rout at least twenty five of the Ghost's men. Unfortunately, the ghost himself had slipped away, as the Dragoons and infantry had closed in. After a short and nasty skirmish, he and several other rebels, had rode wildly around a bridge, down an embankment and along the river, risking their mounts in their effort to get away.

Upon see them, Tavington had immediately opened fire on them, and one had fallen from his horse, dead, but the Ghost had slipped through his fingers.

On the bright side, he had been able to capture twenty five horses for his Dragoons - though three of them were too badly wounded in the skirmish to be of any use.

Last night, with Miss Lyra Mathan in his arms, Tavington had felt his ire melt away for the first time in weeks. He had almost forgotten what it could feel like, to be free of strain. Until the morning, when he woke and the rebels had still not attacked, then it all came surging back.

He barely spoke to Lyra when he rose from their bedroll though he could sense her disquiet and knew it was caused by his suddenly cool demeanor. He had no desire to take his ill temper out on the gentle girl, the best course of action was to take himself away from her.

Lyra's sudden screech caused Tavington to turn abruptly in alarm, he had taken two steps toward her, expecting to see rebels, ready to rush to her aid. However, the girl was not under threat. He watched with a scowl as she threw herself, weeping, into Mrs. Bryant's arms.

"Bordon, it is time to ride out, have the rest of the men mounted."

He turned to Lieutenant Richards.

"Inform Miss Mathan that she will be riding with you again. I want her kept safe at all costs, and away from the captive women."

Tavington decided on a whim to indulge the timid Lyra by keeping her companion close by her. "Mrs. Bryant will ride with you under your protection as well, choose a rider for her – Evans perhaps."

"Yes, Sir!" Lieutenant Richards snapped smartly, turning on his heels in search of Lieutenant Evans.

Richards would keep them in the centre of the column, where it was safest. Tavington was at his customary place at the head of the Dragoon column when they rode out.

The next few farmsteads they visited were abandoned.

_Ah, _Tavington thought, _the rebels have been busy removing their families from their homes... _

He casually ordered each home fired, despite them being empty.

The column found a likely place in the woods to stop and rest the horses around midday, and Tavington went in search of Lyra. He found her with Richard's and Evans', she was sitting on a tree trunk talking quietly with Mrs. Bryant, who sat beside her.

She looked up and smiled at him as he approached, and he felt his irritation melt away again as he sat down on her other side.

"How are you coping, Lyra? I doubt you are used to riding, and we have been traveling for quite a long time now."

"I am fine. Well, if I'm completely honest I'm a little sore... I do not know how you do this all day every day."

"I am quite used to it, I assure you."

"How much longer will we be riding with you, Colonel Tavington?" Mrs. Bryant asked him archly.

Tavington raised one eyebrow at her tone, but she was not to be daunted. "_Miss Mathan_ and I really should not be riding in this manner at all."

"As long as I deem necessary, Mrs. Bryant." Tavington said coolly. He held her eyes sternly until she lowered hers and turned away.

"Miss Mathan," Tavington turned back to Lyra. "Perhaps you should stretch your legs, would you like to come for a walk? There is a pretty waterfall not far from here, you may like to see it."

"Yes," Lyra replied, rising, "I would like that Colonel."

"As would I," Mrs. Bryant announced, rising also. "I need to stretch my legs as well."

Tavington gave her a hard stare, and while Mrs. Bryant swallowed with obvious fear, she was not going to back down. He ignored her and offered his arm to Lyra and led the way through the woods to the waterfall.

Richards accompanied them, making polite conversation with Mrs. Bryant. Tavington curled his lip with irritation as his hopes of coupling with Lyra alone in the woods were dashed.

Lyra's obvious delight over the waterfall pleased him, however, and he found he was enjoying himself even with Mrs. Bryant watching them with obvious disapproval.

"I do not think your Governess regards me very highly, Lyra," He said, taking her small hand in his.

"Well, she is not my Governess any more, Colonel," Lyra smiled back. "Still, she does have a point. When do you think you will be heading back towards Charles Town?"

"Soon. I have to be in Moncks Corner shortly, and then we will go on to Charles Town from there. If we start making our way back tomorrow, we will be in Charles Town the following day." Tavington smiled down at her, and traced his finger along her cheek. "Be patient with me, little one."

Lyra stared up at him adoringly, her breath seemed to quicken when he touched her cheek. Tavington glanced past Lyra, seeing Mrs. Bryant deep in conversation with Richards.

"Come, we can be alone for a few minutes at least, before your guard comes looking for you." Tavington teased, leading Lyra away through the trees.

He did not go far, only a few yards, but the woods were thick and provided privacy. He took Lyra into his arms and she sighed as he began to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and quivered when his tongue touched hers.

"I was hoping we could do more, but..." Tavington murmured. "Your Governess..."

"I told you, she is not my Governess..." Lyra answered, "perhaps if we are quiet, like last night in the woods? The Dragoon sentry did not hear a thing..."

Inflamed by her words, Tavington growled low in his throat and deepened the kiss - his hard member aching with need.

He heard Richards voice - they were too close now.

"Tonight," Tavington whispered his promise, pulling away reluctantly and taking Lyra by the hand.

"Mrs. Bryant has already said I must sleep close to her."

"She said that, did she?" He kissed her again. "You leave Mrs. Bryant to me, little one..."

Lyra felt suddenly apprehensive at the dangerous glint in Tavington's eyes.

::::::::::::::::::::

Just after midday, they came across yet another farmstead. It was a large house, but the fields were poorly tended. Tavington ordered the halt with a raise of his arm. He guided his horse closer to the house and dismounted.

Taking his plumed helmet off and placing it under his arm, he entered the house with Captain Bordon.

"The home of Thomas Smith, Sir." Tavington turned to consider Captain Wilkins coolly. "He has been riding with the Ghost for some time now, by all reports. He has been particularly violent with his attacks on Loyalist families in the area, there have been complaints of rape."

Tavington nodded calmly, then began a slow perusal of the house.

"He has been here, Wilkins - he is probably hiding in the woods, at this very moment."

The fireplace was still warm, and the kettle on the stove was hot. Moving about the room idly, Tavington started inspecting drawers and cupboards, searching for letters or anything that might give him information about the rebels. He found nothing, and entered the back sleeping rooms to continue his investigation. The furniture was still there, but in one of the rooms the drawers were completely empty.

He was about to give up when he spotted a piece of parchment in the fireplace. The letter was singed in the corners, but was mostly legible.

Tavington stilled as he read the letter, his face growing dark.

_Smith_

_Dragoons have been sighted in the area. They have taken captives from the farmsteads. Your daughter is one of the women caught. Do not attempt to rescue her. Wait and watch, the men will be in place for the ambush soon. Lyra is unharmed for now, so I repeat, wait, watch and do nothing._

_Lyra... _Tavington stared at the note, his face as hard as stone.

"What is it, Sir?" Wilkins asked.

Tavington's icy gaze turned to Wilkins, but handed the missive over slowly.

Wilkins took it and scanned the page quickly. He looked at Tavington quizzically.

"It has no salutation, Sir. This gives us no indication of the Ghost's identity or even if the Ghost himself wrote it."

Fury flashed across Tavington's face, quickly schooled into a cold hard expression. He said in a cool and controlled voice, "Not the _Ghost_, Captain. The _girl_. Miss Mathan, you said her story sounded familiar."

"Miss Mathan? I did not know her parents very well, so I do not know her full story - Sir," Wilkins paused, "this missive is about one of the captives, isn't it? This… Lyra."

"Yes. _Miss Lyra Mathan_," Tavington's cold smile did not reach his eyes and he nearly tore the parchment in two as he snatched it back from Wilkins hands.

"She was lying to me." His voice was dangerous and clipped. "She mentioned a Stepfather, but never told me he was a rebel. Which makes _her_ a rebel."

_I will make her pay for this embarrassment, for deceiving me. _Tavington kept his face smooth, but his thoughts raged. The tension in his body promised violence. _Her Stepfather is waiting in the woods, I will use her to draw him in._

"Sir, I don't think -"

"Bordon, bring me the girl" Tavington commanded, cutting Wilkins off. "Make sure she is alone."

He walked casually over to gaze out the window to wait for Lyra to be bought to him.

His back was to Wilkins, he did not see the man's unease.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N - I worked really hard to change this chapter, and I'm quite pleased with the way Tavington turned out! _

_Thank you random Guest for your review - it made my day! _

_(Guest 7/30/12 . chapter 4 - Its very interesting, and i can't wait to read more!)_

Chapter Six - Tavington's Fury

Lyra realized her surroundings were starting to look familiar. She glanced over to Mrs. Bryant, whose expression confirmed it. They were not far from her stepfather's farmhouse.

_How in the world did we get back here so quickly?_ Lyra supposed they had moved rather slowly on the cart, and horseback was much faster, but still! She felt bile in her mouth, when she saw the dreaded farmstead, the horrible house she had been forced to live in for so long.

The horrible things that had happened to her and her mother here.

There were some good memories too, she conceded. When ever Thomas was away carousing and whoring, her mother, Lyra, and Mrs. Bryant would have a wonderful time. Mrs. Bryant would teach her to play the pianola that Lyra's uncle had sent her, and then her mother would play, oh so beautifully and Mrs. Bryant would teach Lyra to dance. But Thomas sold the pianola when Lyra's mother died and for the last two years there had been no music, no dancing.

The column stopped, but Lyra was not bid to dismount as Tavington and several other Dragoons' rode forward to check the house.

_I hope he burns it to the ground_. Lyra thought with uncharacteristic venom.

They waited for an interminable period, until a very uneasy seeming Bordon came to fetch her – Tavington was waiting to see her inside the house.

_Does he know I lived here?_ She thought, Bordon's unease was infecting her and she was suddenly fearful._ No. how could he know?_ _He wants to be alone with me, because we could not be together earlier in the woods. _

While Lyra was dismounting Bordon spoke, "she is to come alone."

Lyra looked over at Mrs. Bryant, who was giving Lyra a stern look. She had been about to follow as chaperone.

Lyra regretted confessing to Mrs. Bryant just how many times she had coupled with Tavington the night before. She had only done so because she had felt uncomfortable and sore, and wanted to know if it was normal. Lyra had had to grab Mrs. Bryant by the arm to stop her from marching over to Tavington to give him a piece of her mind.

That was the last thing Lyra wanted, she knew from the first moment she met him that Tavington had a temper and was completely unpredictable. She did not want to see Mrs. Bryant on the receiving end of Tavington's fury if he chose to unleash it.

She walked with Bordon to the house, leaving Mrs. Bryant behind her.

Tavington was standing by the window, watching her approach. When she entered, he glanced down at a slip of burnt parchment, his face set like stone.

"This farm is known to be owned by one Thomas Smith," He said in crisp, icy tones. He did not lift his eyes from the missive as he spoke. "A known rebel. Rides with the Ghost."

Lyra felt her heart beating frantically.

_I should have told him when I had the chance_.

Tavington finally lifted his frosty eyes to hers, and Lyra felt her knees weaken with fear at the fury she saw flaring in their depths. She sat down in a chair, to keep from collapsing.

His cold blue eyes pierced into hers as he advanced on her slowly.

"Lyra, please explain this," he demanded in a quiet voice, handing her the parchment.

Lyra's mouth went dry as she read it.

"Colonel -"

"Explain it!" He commanded sternly, unrelenting.

Lyra quailed, her eyes tearing. She felt more afraid of Tavington and his dangerous, icy calm, than she ever had with Thomas' raging and shouting.

"Thomas Smith is my Stepfather." She finally found her voice, it was a bare whisper.

Suspicions confirmed, Tavington uncoiled like a spring. His face twisted with unleashed fury and he lunged for her, grabbing her by her arms painfully and dragging her to her feet.

"_You never said anything about your stepfather being a rebel!" _He raged, giving her a hard shake. _"You deceived me!" _

His piercing gaze held hers, his angry breath hot on her face. Tavington raised his hand to slap her, and she cried out with anguish and fear, twisting away as far as she could in his tight grip.

"No, please, I was not lying! I didn't tell you the whole truth because I was frightened!" She cried, turning back to him to stare into his eyes, beseeching. "I was scared if I told you about my stepfather being a rebel... Please - Colonel! I am trying to get away from him. _I just want to go home!" _

She could not speak any further, she lowered her head as great sobs racked through her body.

Tavington restrained himself from hitting her. He slowly and deliberately lowered his fist to his side and loosened his painful grip on her arm, knowing she would have bruises.

He considered her coolly for a time.

"Wilkins, leave us," Tavington commanded curtly, then to Lyra he said, "I am listening."

Lyra could barely speak, still racked by tears.

"Calm yourself, Lyra..." He said, stroking her hair gently. "That is better. Now, tell me the whole truth, no more omissions." Tavington was quietly scrutinizing her, waiting tensely.

She stared at the gold medallions on his Redcoat, not wanting to meet his frosty blue eyes.

"He's horrible," she whispered finally. "I don't know why my mother married him, she said he was charming. He may have been, at first, but then he started to beat her, and he would demand more and more money for his gambling and whoring."

She swallowed as her tears threatened to begin again, and took several deep breaths before continuing. She still did not meet his eyes, though Tavington was now running his thumbs back and forth along her arms where he his iron grip had dug in so painfully, as though trying to rub away the bruises that he knew must be forming.

"We had to settle here, deep in the back country after he spent so much of my mother's money. After my mother died, Thomas wanted to claim my inheritance, but he could not until I turned eighteen. He planned to force me to marry him as soon as I was of age."

"Marry you?" Tavington asked sharply. Lyra finally looked up into his eyes, and felt a surge of relief. His expression had eased, the terrible fury dissipating.

"But then the rebels started coming by, and he would ride off with them for days, and then weeks at a time. This time, he has not come back. He was gone for three weeks, when Mrs. Bryant finally convinced me it was time to leave and make our way to Charles Town…

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Mrs. Bryant said it would be best not to mention Thomas."

"Mrs. Bryant again..." Tavington said with a scowl.

Lyra continued on in a rush, hoping to divert his annoyance from her her friend.. "I'm so frightened of him, if he thinks I'm a captive he might try and rescue me - please, Colonel," she clutched at his Redcoat, imploring, "you can't let him take me, please!"

She started to cry all over again and he took her into his arms, holding her securely.

"I will not let him take you," he said, and when she calmed he asked, "what aren't you telling me, Lyra? Why are you so fearful of him? Does he beat you too?"

Lyra took a deep breath, then nodded against his chest. She felt his body tense with anger, though she knew it was no longer directed at her.

"He started coming to me, shortly after my mother died," she whispered. "He would beat me if I didn't do what he wanted. And he kept saying he would force me to be his wife."

After a brief silence Tavington said, "but he did not force himself on you, I was your first." Lyra heard the question in his voice.

"Yes, you were. He did not want anyone to become suspicious, which they would have done had he gotten me with child. He threatened to take me properly when we were married. Still, I had to please him and if I didn't... You can't let him get hold of me again, you just can't!"

Tavington held her tighter. "I have told you I will not. You are surrounded by 125 Dragoons, little one, he will not be able to get to you. I will not allow it."

Lyra sighed, feeling somewhat reassured.

"Do you know the identity of the Ghost?" He asked after a moment.

Lyra shook her head and Tavington blew out a disappointed breath.

"I'm sorry, perhaps I should have listened to the rebels more when they came around here. I could have hidden and eavesdropped on them."

"No, I do not think you would make a very good spy, and he would have punished you if he caught you."

"They did speak of Black Swamp often, I heard that much..."

Tavington nodded, his fingers traced her face, and along her jaw – he tipped her face up up to his, and brushed his lips against hers softly.

"You are not still angry with me, are you, Colonel?" She breathed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He shook his head.

"You frightened me," she said softly, lowering her forehead to his hard chest.

"I know." He replied, unrepentant. "You should have told me last night. What am I to do with you, Lyra?"

"Take me to Charles Town?" She suggested looking up. She sighed as his lips brushed along her neck.

He kissed her again, and Lyra felt sure his rage had fully dissipated as he deepened the kiss.

She pulled away and gave Tavington a shy smile. "My Governess is not here..."

"I was thinking that exact same thing, sweet one." Tavington murmured, as his fingers started working on the buttons at Lyra's back. "Lets get these clothes off you..."

"No...!" Lyra pulled back, eyes open wide.

"No?" Tavington asked with amusement. "You just said..."

"Yes... but - you will see me..."

"Yes, naked... I will see you naked." He kissed her, and whispered thickly, "I want to see you naked..."

He continued pulling at the buttons, continued working until Lyra stood before him with only her skirts on.

She covered her breasts with her arms, embarrassed.

Tavington smiled encouragingly, as he gently pulled her arms away from her chest, encircling her small wrists in a loose grips. His breath caught as he drank in the sight of her. Her full breasts, her tiny waist, her her stomach. He stared at her appreciatively.

"Beautiful," Tavington whispered. Lyra shivered as he released her wrists to gently trace his fingers up and down her sides, over her stomach and back up to fill his hands with her breasts.

Lyra sighed with pleasure despite her embarrassment, when his thumbs moved over her nipples gently.

"Bend over the table Lyra," Tavington commanded his voice thick with desire as he started to fuss with his belt buckle.

Lyra put her arms around his neck and kissed him first, before turning around to the table. At his urging, she placed her hands before her on the table, and bent forward.

Tavington moved behind her to quickly lift her skirts and lower her stockings, then parted her legs with his hands. He caressed her between her thighs, again finding that hard place within her folds, his fingers dipping back and forth from her entrance and up again.

His other hand was gently cupping one breast, fingers circling her nipple. She could feel her moisture building, knew it would be enough for him to enter her with ease.

"Please don't stop…" She whispered, worried that he would take her without seeing to her need first, as he had in the woods last night. He had pleasures her afterward but he would not be able to this time.

She heard his breathing become heavier at her words. He did stop, but only for long enough to guide his member inside of her. Once he was in, he held still, breathing steadily and then his hand moved back around to her front, again circling her spot.

"Ohhh," She whispered. "This is… Ohhh…"

"This is…?" He whispered in her ear, quietly taunting. He wanted to hear her say it.

"Oh Lord… It's wonderful…" She pushed against him, urging him deeper, and placed one hand on his wrist to make sure he did not pull it away again. He chuckled in her ear, low and gratified.

Before long, the feeling of warmth was building and she was meeting his thrusts with abandon, demanding more. Lyra was whispering something, she did not know what, and making inarticulate noises all at once, moaning and whimpering.

Tavington kept the pressure of his fingers on her spot, moving them in frenzy, tweaking her nipples as he pelted in and out of her. He could feel his own climax building and was not sure which of them would get there first.

It was Lyra. She arched her back, pushing back against him and holding still while he continued his thrusting. Her climax exploded through her, and she had to grip the sides of the table hard for support as she cried out with pleasure.

He could not last much longer. For the first time since he started coupling with her, he could feel the contractions of her climax deep within her, pulsing around his member. It proved his undoing, and with an explosive breath of his own his seed shot up the length of him, in pulses.

Lyra collapsed face forward on the table, and Tavington stood up tall behind her, staring with unseeing eyes up at the ceiling as he recovered from his powerful climax, his hands moving up and down her back.

When his climax finally waned, he looked down at her. His fingers had felt some small scars on her back. Her skin was so soft, so perfect, except…

"Who did this?" He asked, coldly.

"I told you," she replied quietly, "he beat me if I did not do as he wanted."

"He used his belt on you? I can see where the buckle bit your skin!"

Lyra said nothing as she straightened up and pressed her back against him, she reached for his arms and pulled them around her, nestling her head against his chest.

"If he is with the group of rebels when they come for their women, you will point him out to me." It was a command; he would not be baulked in this.

"What will you do?" She asked.

"Kill him, little one." Tavington said quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven - The Ambush

"Is there anything else you want to take from here? You will not be coming back again," Tavington asked Lyra, taking her small hand in his.

She was dressed again, Tavington himself had fixed her hair, which had come undone after the long ride and their recent coupling. He had done the same for his little sister numerous times, though he had never done it for any other woman, certainly not one he was bedding.

It felt very intimate to him, far more so than the act of coupling which was purely for his gratification. He wondered at himself, at his constant need to touch this young woman, her hair, her face, and her hands.

"No, we took all of my belongings, we did not leave anything behind. It was all on our wagon... Which is back at the farm where we first met you." She looked down, not meeting his eyes. "My mother's jewelry was packed on the wagon too."

Tavington took a deep breath, feeling remorseful. She did try to tell him yesterday, but he could only think of taking this beautiful young woman, was blinded by his need to seduce her.

"Oh wait!" She brightened suddenly, and disappeared into a back room. She came out smiling, holding some little framed pictures. "I forgot these!"

Tavington took one from her hand and studied the portrait, it was an oil of a slightly older version of Lyra, with the same green eyes.

"Your mother?" He guessed, and she nodded. "You look just like her."

He handed it back and took the other one, it was of Lyra. He stared at it with a smile, and she raised one eyebrow as he put it in his pocket.

"You can have another one done, this one is mine."

She gave him a shy smile and he brushed his lips against hers gently.

"Shall we, then?" He asked crisply as he stepped away from her, suddenly business like. He led the way out of the farmstead into the daylight, her hand held securely in his.

He noticed Lyra lowered her eyes again, trying to hide from the Dragoon sentries waiting outside - they would have been able to hear the sounds of his and Lyra's coupling.

Tavington nodded at his men, unembarrassed, and they fell in behind him.

Tavington stayed by her side when Lyra paused and turned for one last look at the house she had lived in for the past ten years..

"Don't you burn farmsteads that belong to rebels, Colonel Tavington?"

His eyes opened wide with shock, her voice was filled with venom and her face set in a hard, determined expression. He had not thought her capable of such determination.

"If that is what you wish, little one." Tavington replied softly, reaching up to gently touch her cheek.

She nodded and looked up into his eyes. "It is… Will you see to it, please?" She asked in a small voice, suddenly vulnerable again. He squeezed her hand lightly.

"Bordon, bring me a firebrand." Tavington commanded, and threw the first lit brand himself, his Dragoon's following suit. Lyra stood and watched the blaze for some time; with Tavington waiting patiently at her side, still holding her hand.

"Time to go," Tavington said to her, leading her away. He wondered if her stepfather was watching from somewhere in the woods, he knew the man had to be close by. If Thomas Smith was watching, then he would know that Lyra was no captive to be rescued, which made the man very dangerous. Tavington resolved to keep a very close eye on her.

He led her back to the waiting Lieutenant Richards, aiding Lyra to mount. This time he positioned her closer to him in the column, not quite at the front - it was too dangerous, but close enough for him to come to her aid if necessary.

"Bordon," Tavington took his Captain aside and commanded quietly, "choose four Dragoons to return to the farm where we met Miss Mathan. There is a cart there, loaded with her possessions. I want it driven to Moncks Corner, we will be passing through there on the way to Charles Town."

Bordon was surprised, but he nodded and with a "Sir!" went to see to choose the Dragoons for the task.

Shortly later, they rode away from the farm.

They had been riding for some time; it was well past midday. The sun was filtering through the leafy canopy above them, it was a pretty sight; Tavington was truly enchanted. He had been in the Colonies for four years and had not tired of the beauty this country held.

They entered a denser part of the forest, and the Dragoons where forced to ride two abreast as the road narrowed considerably. Tavington ordered the men to be on alert, this would be the place he would choose for an ambush. It was too hard to defend and fight, the Dragoons would have no room to maneuver, and they could be picked off one by one by hidden rebels. They went through slowly, searching the bush all around them.

Tavington had been tense and alert the whole way along the narrow part of the road, but eventually the road widened again. Tavington broke free from the column and stopped to watch the rest of the company make their slow way through. Lyra passed him, he gave her a cursory glance, intent was he on watching his men pass through safely.

Nearly two thirds of the company of Dragoons were through when the blasts of pistols firing could be heard back down the line. Women and horses where screaming, men yelling.

"To arms!" Tavington shouted, gripping his pistol high. He galloped back the way he had come, but the Dragoons filing out still filled the gap, and he could not get in. The Dragoons could not turn around, not quickly. Tavington barked orders and cursed to no avail, frustration and rage growing by the moment. Then it was silent. The gap finally cleared, and Tavington entered slowly listening intently, with his pistol raised, his Dragoons following behind him. He found three Dragoons, covered with blood, dead where they lay. Three more where severely wounded.

The captive women were gone.

Tavington twisted in his saddle when explosions blasted all around them again. Rebels came surging out of the trees, brandishing weapons, firing pistols. Tavington snarled and fired, then laid about him with his sword, killing and wounding indiscriminately. He was nearly pulled from his horse, but he stabbed down at the rebel enemy, eliminating the threat. There was not much room to maneuver, for Dragoons and for rebels alike. He ran out of rebels to fight, and suddenly remembering Lyra, he lurched to a gallop, jumping over dead Dragoons and rebels in his haste to reach her.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Lyra was in a state of contentment since leaving the farmstead.

The only thing to mar her happiness was Mrs. Bryant. She had not spoken to the older woman since when Tavington led her back to the horses. Mrs Bryant had taken one look at Tavington and Lyra holding hands, had given a loud sniff of disapproval and turned away.

Tavington sensed Lyra's distress, he had squeezed her hand and rolled his eyes, shrugging off Mrs. Bryant's censure with a smile.

They had been riding for a while now, and Lyra thought it would be a good time to make amends with Richards.

She patted him on the back, and he turned his face side long to hear her better.

"I'm sorry, Richards," she called over the sound of the horses.

"For what?" He called back.

"For biting you. Does it hurt terribly?"

"Not anymore… That was a nasty little trick!" He laughed though, to Lyra's relief.

"You won't hold it against me?" She asked.

"Hmmm, I should… But I think Colonel Tavington might be vexed with me if I try and get revenge. He seems quite fond of you."

Lyra felt warm to hear the words, her face flushed.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise. I'm very good at making butter cakes…"

"Ahhh, the way to a man's heart… I will hold you to that, Miss Mathan."

That had been a little while ago now, and they had been riding hard.

Lyra had fallen silent after their exchange, biting her lip thoughtfully. She could see Colonel Tavington just up ahead. The other girls were still at the back of the column, out of Lyra's sight.

Tavington was looking back at her again, as he often had during the ride, and she felt her stomach flip when her eyes met his.

_He is so handsome…_ Lyra wanted to sit with him, to wrap her arms around him, lay her head on his strong back. She imagined he would run his gloved hands over her hands while they rode. She shook herself when Tavington turned forward again, she had been about to swoon!

She avoided looking at Mrs. Bryant, who was so disapproving. Mrs. Bryant had not stopped talking about making an official complaint against Tavington, she said Lyra could speak to an official as soon they arrived in Charles Town… They had argued quietly about that, what would Lyra say? What would the complaint be, exactly?

_Yes, he took me to his blankets, and I had the most wondrous feelings I've ever had and I want more... Hmm, that will go down well. And it would become public knowledge that I was no longer a virgin._

Lyra shook her head, pushing the thoughts away.

She felt better now that she had made her peace with Lieutenant Richards; she had been on the back of his horse for nearly two days now, after all.

"Why aren't I riding with him, Richards?" She asked him now.

"It is not safe. If we are attacked, Colonel Tavington will be the first one targeted. You're much safer here with Evans and I, as is Mrs Bryant." After a pause, Richards asked, "Is she a widow?"

"Yes, for some fifteen years or so… Why?" Lyra asked.

He did not answer her…

She smiled to herself – _Richards is about the right age for Mrs. Bryant and if she is being courted, maybe she will leave Tavington and I be…_

The road had narrowed considerably and a message came down from Colonel Tavington to be on the alert. Lyra peered into the foliage fearfully as they made their slow way through.

The road widened again, they were through and on safer ground. Lyra sighed with relief, when she turned back she saw another third or so of the Dragoons exit the narrow road.

Suddenly there was a commotion behind. Explosions from pistols, men yelling, women and horses screaming. She saw Tavington rush back down the line, cursing in frustration. The narrow way was blocked with Dragoons, he could not enter.

Then it was silent except for the jingling of the Dragoons horses and the soldiers calling back and forth uncertainly. The remaining Dragoons finally exited the narrow part of the road to safety, and Lyra held her breath as Tavington entered slowly, his pistol raised, followed by more Dragoons. He was gone for some time, Lyra's worry for him increasing by the moment.

Then everything seemed to happen at once. Men started shouting again, the explosions from pistols sounded, bullets were flying amongst them. Lyra screamed, huddling against Richards back. He grabbed his pistol, and fired into the trees even as he guided his horse to a safe position for defense. She was his to protect, Colonel Tavington had made it Richards' primary duty while Lyra rode with them.

Richards bid her and Mrs. Bryant to dismount and pushed them towards the bole of a large oak. He and Evans stood in front of them, their swords in hand – they had taken on defensive stances, and were not entering the fray.

Lyra squatted to the ground, her hands over her ears and her eyes squeezed shut. Mrs Bryant, made of sterner stuff, wrapped her arms around Lyra and watched the battle unfold.

There were casualties on both sides, Dragoon and rebel alike thrown from their horses, dead or dying. The stench of blood, madness and chaos. And so much noise – the horses where screaming, men were screaming, and constant explosions sounded from their pistols.

Evans yelled out with pain, and collapsed – he had been shot. Richards and Mrs. Bryant rushed to his aid to tend his wound and suddenly Lyra was dragged by her arm around the side of the tree.

Her Stepfather, Thomas, held her arm in a tight grip as he started to drag her toward his waiting horse. Lyra nearly fainted with fear, her voice failed her when she tried to scream.

"Whore", he spat at her, "you're rogering that butcher, aren't you? That bastard!" He raised his hand and cracked it across her face, before dragging her again.

She struggled against him, but the pain of his slap left her feeling weak. He slapped her again, and screamed at her to stop fighting. He spun her around and pulled one of her arms up painfully behind her back and with his other hand wound his fingers in a tight grip through her hair.

Her scalp was on fire with pain and she felt as though her arm would wrench from her shoulder. He marched, growling curses and obscenities all the while, until they were at his horse. He spun her back to face him, and slapped her again.

Lyra fell to the ground crying from the force of the blow, and Thomas started to kick her. "I saw you!" He screamed at her. "Alone with him in our house! I saw him burn it, I saw him touch you!" Another kick, it landed in her middle – knocking the breath from her. "You whore!"

He grabbed her to pick her up, she was too weak to fight him as he threw her up into the saddle, mounting behind her. They had not gone far when Thomas' weight fell onto Lyra, and then he toppled from the saddle.

Lyra looked down from the horse, eyes wide, as her hated stepfather fell to the ground. His mouth was spewing blood, his eyes already starting to glaze.

And then Colonel Tavington was at her side, grabbing the reins of the horse before it had a chance to bolt.

Lyra was crying too hard to take it all in. She felt Tavington's arms come about her, and she leaned into his embrace.

The fight had ended, it was mostly silent as Tavington guided Lyra back. Lyra turned her face away from the carnage, the dead and the wounded, of both men and horse.

A guilt ridden Mrs Bryant was suddenly at Lyra's side, helping her down from the horse. Lyra threw herself into the older woman's arms, weeping with pain. She pulled away from her former governess, to look for Tavington. He had moved away from her and was sitting astride his mount, barking commands.

The rebel's women were gone; the rescue was a success despite the death toll to the rebels.

_I'm so glad they've been rescued, they had suffered enough._ Lyra thought to herself, resolving never to say the words aloud, especially in Colonel Tavington's hearing.

Lyra could see Tavington's cold rage, he ordered the Dragoons to mount up and give chase, and he disappeared back down the narrow road. For a long time Lyra and Mrs Bryant only had twenty Dragoons, including Richards, the wounded and the dead for company. Bordon organized litters to be improvised and strung between horses, and for the Dragoon dead to be buried. Evans was alive, but Mrs. Bryant did not think he would make it.

Then Tavington had returned, full of fury at being thwarted.

He glanced over her way then rode toward her and dismounted.

"Are you alright?" He asked, as he felt her face tenderly, Lyra suspected she would have been sporting some serious bruises. She nodded, trying to be brave, but her weeping started again and he took her into his arms, whispering comforting words while he held her.

Eventually his duties called his attention and he left Lyra in Mrs. Bryant's care again, before setting about the gruesome task of killing the enemy wounded. There were two rebels that had been captured and bound and Lyra wondered if they were being kept for questioning. The thought made her shudder.

It was well into mid afternoon, when Colonel Tavington ordered the company to mount up and ride out. Richards told her that they could not go far; just get away from the immediate area to a safer site where they could fortify and easily defend for the night – and would get their wounded proper help in the morning.

"Tell Tavington I will ride with him, Richards," Lyra said firmly, speaking up for the first time.

Richards looked surprised, but nodded and walked away to speak with Tavington.

"_Why_?" Mrs Bryant asked her with exasperation. "This man cannot be good for you. This needs to end, not be _encouraged_ by you!"

Lyra shrugged, but did not answer. She simply needed to be near him.

She held her breath as Tavington turned his horse and headed in her direction.

_Will he refuse me? _She wondered with apprehension.

Tavington rode up to her with an unreadable expression, and then reached his arm down to pull her up behind him. Lyra sighed in relief, settling into her seat and wrapping her arms around his waist. Mrs Bryant clambered up behind Richards, face set in disapproval.

The column set out, to find a safer place to settle for the night where they could lick their wounds.

:::::::::

_Earlier, during the rebel attack:_

Tavington galloped back up the road and searched for Lyra. He could not see her - Richards and Mrs. Bryant where tending to Evans' wounds but Lyra was no where to be seen.

"Where is she?" He shouted at them, and they both looked up with alarm, turning around to find Lyra gone. Tavington stared at them with glittering eyes, then launched his horse into a gallop when he heard a man shouting somewhere in the woods.

He finally caught sight of them, Lyra was mounted in front of a large man, she was sobbing and wilting, ready to topple out of the saddle. Tavington pulled his sword and urged his horse forward, his face grim. When he reached them, he did not hesitate.

He viciously swiped his sword along the man's back, cutting him deeply. The man stiffened, then fell forward on to Lyra, and Tavington dragged him off her. Thomas Smith fell to the ground, dead.

Lyra was inconsolable, she was crying and the horse was about to bolt. Tavington took the reins and the pulled Lyra into his arms.

He led the way back to the Dragoons, giving Lyra over into Mrs. Bryant's care, to organize the chase.

"Bordon!" Tavington barked. "Have these men seen too. Wilkins, with me!"

He could hear the faint crashing up ahead, the retreating rebels. He flicked his reins, and urged his horse into a gallop. Wilkins knew the area best, Tavington took the bulk of his Dragoons with him in the pursuit, leaving twenty to guard the wounded. And Lyra.

He gave chase for nearly an hour, to no avail.

"We return to the others, rejoin the company." Tavington ordered Captain Wilkins coldly. "We need to get our wounded to safety."

His face was like stone but he was seething inside, if he had access to a rebel right now he would tear him apart limb from limb. And if that rebel was the Ghost...

An hour later the company of Dragoons were reunited, and ready to ride. He looked for Lyra, she was terrified but her fear seemed to abate when he put his arms around her. Duty called all too quickly, however and he could not stay with her.

"Watch over her this time!" Tavington snarled at Mrs. Bryant and Richards, with a piercing glare for both of them, he handed Lyra back into their care.

Bordon had not been idle, it seemed. The Dragoon dead were gone, buried Tavington guessed, and the wounded were strung on improvised litters, hanging between horses. The rebel dead where still lying where they had fallen, their wounded moaning with pain.

"Good work," Tavington nodded at Bordon with approval. He dismounted and checked each wounded Dragoon himself, these where his men and he hated to lose a single one.

"Do not worry, help is not far away, we will get you there soon. You did well." He told each of them quietly in turn. They each nodded, trusting their Colonel to care for them.

Tavington started to dispatch the rebel wounded dispassionately, keeping two aside that could still talk. He smiled coldly; they would be put to the question.

He mounted, ready to lead their slow way through the woods, when Richards approached.

"Sir! Miss Mathan has requested to ride with you."

"Requested?" Tavington blew out a deep breath and shook his head, "It is too dangerous."

"Sir, she insisted."

Tavington raised an eyebrow at Richards, then turned his horse wordlessly toward Lyra. When he reached her, he extended his arm and helped her to mount behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

_It is too dangerous no matter where she is, _he shrugged.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N - Another chapter that I've worked really hard on to change... Tavington is still in a fury, as he was in the same scene from 'Tavington and Lyra', but not as bad - and its from his perspective so it makes more sense. Lyra is angry in this chapter too - which provides a balance between them, I think..._

_Thanks again for the reviews!_

Chapter Eight - Lyra's Slap

They found a likely looking campsite, and settled in for the night. The Dragoons were busy fortifying their position before they lost too much light, and Tavington was with Bordon, seeing to their wounded.

Lyra was sitting quietly in front of a fire, a full plate of food was on the ground beside her. She knew Tavington blamed Lieutenant Richards and Mrs. Bryant for her capture, but Lyra knew they had been concerned with poor Lieutenant Evans, who had been seriously wounded. Their attention had been on him with Thomas had taken her. It was not their fault.

She stared into the fire, trying to make sense of the days events. Her whole body was afire with pain, there was no way she could sit without feeling it.

"You need to eat, Lyra," Mrs. Bryant said quietly, picking up Lyra's food.

"I'm not hungry," she replied.

"Eat it anyway, Lyra," Tavington's stern voice came from behind her. He sat down beside her with his own plate. "You have to keep up your strength. We will be in the saddle for a good three hours tomorrow morning, before we reach safety."

"More riding, that's what I need." Lyra snapped. Not turning her gaze from the fire, she snatched the plate from Mrs. Bryant's hands. Her aches and pains were making her churlish - she felt an unreasonable need to lash out at everyone.

She took one look at the plate and felt like throwing it.

"Lyra, you _will_ eat it." Tavington said, his voice clipped with command.

"I'm not one of your Dragoons, Tavington!" She scowled at him. "Oh, do _sit down_, Mrs. Bryant. For goodness sake, stop _fussing_!"

"I am just worried about you, Lyra." Mrs. Bryant answered quietly, moving to sit next to Lieutenant Richards.

Lyra bristled when she saw the concerned looks the two of them shared with each other. "Well don't worry for me, good Lord you would think I was still twelve years old, for crying out loud."

"Enough!" Tavington snapped. Lyra was about to let her temper loose on him but stopped when his cold eyes pierced hers with a sharp expression. "No more, Lyra. Just eat, now."

Finally sensing that his mood was every bit as bad as hers, Lyra bent her head to her plate and ate in silence.

A little while later, after the four of them had sat without speaking, Tavington stood.

"Come, Lyra. It's time to bed down for the night." He held his hand out for her to take it.

Mrs. Bryant stood up at the same time as Lyra, ready to make her protest. Tavington pinned her with a hard, savage stare. Without breaking his glare from Mrs. Bryant's, he took Lyra's hand and led her away.

Lyra walked at his side angrily. How dare Mrs. Bryant try to stop them?

_I'm a grown woman, for goodness sake!_

And how dare Tavington treat Mrs. Bryant that way?

_She has looked after me for my whole life!_

The bedroll was set up away from the other Dragoons, as it had been the previous night. Tavington took Lyra into his arms as soon as they lay down, kissing her deeply.

She lay on her back, and Tavington lay half on his side, half atop of her, his hand moving up and down her body roughly. He did not spend anywhere near as much time kissing her as he did the night before, before he was pulling up her skirts and removing her stockings.

Lyra could see his savage expression in the moonlight, as he quickly worked to remove his boots and breeches rigorously. There seemed to be an urgency about him that he had not had before.

He lay atop her to continue his rigorous kissing, his tongue invading her mouth, as he parted her legs with his knee. He held himself above her, and started nudging at her entrance.

"Slow down, Colonel!" Lyra said irritably. "We have all night!"

Tavington ignored her, covering her mouth with his again as he entered her. He could not slow down, he needed to feel the comfort of being inside her. Needed her to quell his fury.

Dragoons dead! The Ghost captured! The rebel women rescued! It was a disaster. Lieutenant Richards, failing in his duty! Mrs. Bryant, constantly trying to keep him from Lyra! Thomas Smith - nearly making off with her!

It compounded until all there was left for him to feel was fury. Rage.

He thrust into Lyra savagely, ignoring her protests. She had been in such a surly mood all evening as it was, barely speaking to him. He kissed her again, completely insensible to the discomfit he was causing her.

As he was nearing his peak, ran his fingers through her hair, suddenly needing to feel those golden curls. His fingers unintentionally snagged in a knot, and Lyra cried out with pain, then shocked them both by slapping him hard across the face.

Tavington's head jerked to the side with the force of the blow, and when he turned slowly back to her, his face was twisted with fury, his ice blue eyes fixed on hers, glittering green.

"I did not win free of that brute only for him to be replaced by you!" Lyra spat. She was breathing heavily with fury and pain.

Tavington sobered instantly, coming to himself. After a moments silence, he continued with his lovemaking, taking it slow, carefully. He climaxed quickly, having already been so close to his peak.

He lay alongside her, breathing heavily from his exertions and he tried to take her into his arms, Lyra rose from their blankets.

"Where are you going?" He demanded sharply.

"To sleep with Mrs. Bryant." She hissed.

He grabbed for her arm and pulled her back down to him.

"You are not going anywhere, Lyra," he said in a cold, no nonsense voice.

"If you think I will tolerate any more of _that_ from you - think again! How can you use me like that - to calm _your_ demons? You're not the only one to have suffered today!"

And with that, she burst into tears, her strength and anger draining from her. She lay on her side with her back to him

Tavington felt his own fury drain from him, and he rubbed her arm gently as she wept.

"Lyra, come here," he said gently when her weeping subsided. She resisted but eventually turned over and let him take her into his arms. He kissed the top of her hair gently, and when he felt her hand move up under his shirt to run along his stomach, he knew she had calmed down.

With whispered promises to be gentle, Tavington made love to Lyra as he had the night before, kissing her deeply, passionately, and bringing her pleasure several times before they finally settled down for sleep.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Dawn broke over them, the morning was cold and clear, and Tavington was still laying on the bedroll with Lyra, asleep in his arms, gazing up at the light peaking through the forest canopy overhead.

He felt guilty for his actions of the previous night; he had not been in his right mind. Tavington realized he should not have taken the gentle girl to his blankets at all, with the mood he had been in.

Tavington ran his hands gently up and down her arms, as he remembered comforting and pleasuring her when he finally calmed down.

_I hope she does not think too unkindly of me this morning._

Lyra started to stir, then sat up, rubbing her eyes and looking around her.

Tavington rubbed her back with his hand gently and she turned to study him; he sighed with resignation, seeing the anger in her eyes. "Are you well, this morning?" He asked.

She turned her face away wordlessly.

Tavington sat up, and put his arms around her waist from behind her.

"I should not have behaved that way, Lyra. I was in a rage, and I should not have bought you to my blankets last night." He kissed her shoulder, and then moved up to her neck.

"Is that an apology?" She asked tartly, looking over her shoulder at him.

Tavington pulled back with irritation. He stared back at her, not answering.

She scoffed, then abruptly stood up and stepped away from him, looking for her boots.

He did not pull her back down to him, though he wanted to. Most of the Dragoons where still sleeping, Tavington thought he and Lyra had time to couple one more time before rising...

He watched her in silence, noting how jerky and angry her movements where.

"Do you want me to help you?" He asked. She was bent over trying to pull her boots on. Tavington rolled his eyes when she shook her head no.

"Are you going to speak to me?" He asked her coldly.

Lyra walked forward abruptly and stood over him, she was about to say something when they were interrupted by Mrs. Bryant.

_It's just as well,_ Tavington thought. _Judging by her expression, it was not going to be something I would enjoy hearing. _

Tavington rose from the blankets, heedless of his state of undress and Mrs. Bryant turned abruptly with a hiss as Tavington dressed himself slowly with a smile on his face. He ignored Lyra watching him with disapproval, arms folded across her chest.

"Lyra, I want to have a look at your bruises, to make sure there is no internal damage."

"Bruises?" Tavington asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, her bruises, Colonel. Thomas beat her. Didn't you tell him, Lyra?"

Tavington stared at them both in shock. By the time he reached Lyra, she was on the horse with Smith - he had no idea she had been beaten first.

"No, Mrs. Bryant, Lyra did not tell me. No one told me." He said in a frosty voice, holding Mrs. Bryant's gaze until she flushed and turned away.

"Let me help you, Lyra," She said a little breathlessly as she moved to unbutton Lyra's bodice at the back.

Tavington was rigid with shock - there were livid, almost black bruises covering Lyra's ribs and stomach. No wonder she had been so surly the night before! And no wonder she was so angry at his rough coupling.

"I heard you cry out last night, Lyra." Mrs. Bryant said quietly, not quite looking in Tavington's direction.

He covered his look of shame by staring at them both with a frosty expression, standing up tall, one arm hooked loosely behind his back.

He saw Lyra shrug, and Mrs. Bryant asked no further questions, though he saw her give Lyra another pointed look, before helping her to dress again.

_She expects Lyra to tell her everything when they are alone!_

"Finish your morning ministrations quickly, Mrs. Bryant." He said crisply, with his cold voice. "We'll be riding out as soon as we have broken our fast."

It was a dismissal and she gave him an icy stare but moved away.

"Lyra, why didn't you tell me?" He asked, moving to kneel beside her. "I would have taken much more care of you had I known! What happened - what did he do?"

"Kicked me," She said coolly as she stood up. "Slapped me, _pulled me by my hair_!"

_Ah, no wonder she slapped me._

"Lyra, I did not know."

"_Tavington_, you did not _ask_!" She replied archly.

He held her angry gaze for a moment longer, then strode away abruptly. He decided to go in search of Bordon, who was already up and about, checking on the rebel captives.

"We will need to find a place to question them, Captain," Tavington told him. "For now we will ride to the Collins' plantation, it is not far. They will care for our wounded, I'm certain. We will keep the captives hidden from them, and when we ride out we will stop for the questioning."

"Yes, Sir. If I recall correctly there is an abandoned farmstead on the road back to Moncks Corner. I will talk with Wilkins to be sure."

Tavington nodded, leaving the captive's in Captain Bordon's care.

Shortly after they had eaten breakfast, Tavington headed down to the creek to shave. He was squatting at the edge of the stream, holding his mirror up as he ran his blade across his face. He heard a noise behind him, and angled his mirror slightly. He could see Lyra in its reflection, standing quietly watching him with arms folded across her chest and a scowl on her face.

_Still angry, _Tavington sighed.

"Are you here for any particular reason?" He asked her coolly, "Or did you just wish to admire me?" He smiled slightly, seeing her start of surprise.

"Just to freshen up," Lyra replied quietly.

"Well, make it quick, we are leaving soon." He commanded, idly dipping his blade in the water.

Lyra started forward slowly to kneel alongside him, close enough to touch. He ignored her, continuing his shave, scraping the blade along his cheek.

"You don't seem to be in any particular hurry," she said insolently.

_She is starting to lose her timidity, she is as surly as... Well, as me…_ Tavington thought, raising his eyebrows at her.

"I just don't see why I have to _'make it quick'_ when you are taking your sweet time." She said archly.

_Definitely losing her timidity,_ he thought, _and spoiling for a fight too, unless I miss my guess. _He took a deep breath and turned back to his mirror, not rising to the bait.

After a short silence, Tavington asked, "How are those bruises on your stomach? We have a half a days ride ahead of us."

"Finally showing concern? You didn't care to ask before, and you certainly didn't think about my welfare last night." Lyra muttered.

"I told you, I should not have taken you to my blankets last night."

Lyra's sniff spoke volumes.

"You better make it quick, we are leaving soon." She commanded coolly, in imitation of his own cold authority.

Tavington stared at her over the mirror.

"You've missed a spot, do try to shave more thoroughly." She said tartly. "I have soft skin and yours is like sandpaper."

She closed her eyes and splashed her face with water, then spluttered when Tavington grabbed her arms and hauled her bodily from the streams edge and pressed her up against a tree, carefully avoiding her bruises.

Her eyes where wide open with fright, Tavington saw. He watched her fear recede as he lowered his lips to hers.

"As you command, little one," He answered her huskily. He kissed her slowly, and she sighed as their tongues met. Lyra wrapped her arms around his neck, returning the deep kiss eagerly.

Tavington pulled back momentarily, eyes darting around the tree to see if any of the Dragoons were close by. They were busy packing up the camp and seeing to other tasks. He turned back to Lyra; his eyes hooded with need as he reached down to pull her skirts up.

"Oh no you don't!" She whispered frantically. "Don't you dare! There are Dragoons everywhere! We will be seen! Colonel Tavington, you stop this _at once_!"

He gave her a lusty smile and ignored her protests. Lyra sent stricken looks over her shoulder, trying to see if they were being watched. Tavington only pulled up the front of her skirts, and was busy pulling down her stockings. His fingers glided over and around her centre and she sighed, giving in.

Lyra started pulling at Tavington's belt buckle, tearing her fingers along the buttons of his breeches. He chuckled and kissed her again, as she pulled his member free.

"Keep hold of the top of my breeches, Lyra." He whispered. "If anyone happens along, they will just think we are kissing. Stand on your toes… that's it."

He bent his knees, angling himself lower and picking her up slightly, and slowly entered her with a long sigh. Lyra gripped his neck with one hand, holding his breeches up around his buttocks with the other.

"Ouch!" Lyra gasped, pulling back.

"Lyra, what is it, your bruises?" Tavington asked, voice full of concern.

"No, something is jabbing into me."

"Hmm, I know," he said lewdly, moving his hips forward and back, jabbing into her.

"In your pocket!" Lyra laughed. Tavington fished into his pocket, pulling out the framed oil of Lyra. He placed it carefully on the ground.

"Better?" He asked and she closed her eyes with a sigh as he started to move again.

They moved slowly at first, hips moving against each other in perfect rhythm. Lyra moaned against Tavington's mouth, and started to buck more insistently.

"Slow down, Lyra – I will not be able to hold back if you do that!" He said in a thick voice, almost a growl.

"No! Faster…" Lyra moaned, she pulled one leg up around him and moaned again with increased pleasure. They both held still as they heard someone venture too close, and then started bucking wildly against each other as the Dragoon walked on by, oblivious.

Tavington growled low in his throat as his climax raged through him, unable to hold back any longer. He kissed her hard as his seed burst up his length.

She whimpered with disappointment when he stopped bucking against her, and he moved his hand back between her legs, rubbing and circling her hard spot while she moved back and forth against him. Before long, Lyra nestled her face in his neck to muffle her moans as her climax exploded through her. Tavington again felt her muscles deep within her, shake and pulse around his member.

They held still for a while, kissing gently until their breathing returned to normal, then Tavington pulled free and they fixed their clothes.

Lyra reached down to pick up her portrait then looked at him with surprise when he snatched it from her hand.

"Colonel!" She admonished. "Why are you keeping it, anyway?"

"Do I need a reason? Consider it a courting gift, from you to me." Tavington replied with a smile.

"The man is supposed to do the courting! Where is my courting gift from you?" Lyra asked him tartly.

"We have to get to Charles Town before I can give it to you."

Lyra's eyes opened in surprise and Tavington put his hand on the back of her head, holding her fast and kissing her hard - to prevent her from pulling away to ask questions about her gift. After a few more moments of kissing her deeply, he realized she had no more desire to.


	9. Chapter 9 The Collins Family

**Chapter Nine: The Collins Family**

Tavington led the way up the road leading to the Collins' plantation towards the impressive manor house.

_I should have been more careful, should have known they would lay their trap there! It's where I would have laid one!_

He could not help but dwell on the events of the previous day, going over every detail of the rebel attack. He fumed over the loss of his men, the wounded and Lyra. She sat behind him, and every time she gasped with pain his rage swelled.

He was not sure when, or even _why_, he had begun to feel so protective of her, she was not supposed to be more to him than a simple seduction, entertaining and pleasurable, much like all the other beautiful young women he had seduced over the years. However, Tavington could not deny it to himself, even after such a short time with her, he was quite infatuated.

_I wish I could kill him all over again… _He patted her hand comfortingly, there was not much else he could do right now. She pressed herself closer to him, resting her head against his back, and he could hear her trying to hold back tears.

"We are nearly there, my sweet. You will be able to rest soon." He said gently over his shoulder. He felt her nod, as she did each time he said the words.

Lyra pulled back, she was looking over his shoulder at the house as they approached.

"I've been here before…!"

"You have? When?" He asked with surprise.

"I don't know… It's… It's just so _familiar_! I thought it was before, with the trees lining the road, but… Yes, it's _definitely_ familiar, I remember running through the trees there, with my father chasing me. There was another little boy, Tristan, his name was. My father used to take turns carrying us both on his shoulders…" She fell silent, and Tavington patted her hand again.

He had stayed at the manor house before as well, and had taken advantage of its bounties and luxuries, including the pretty Mrs. Collins. Not even the thought of that conquest could bring a smile to his face right now, however.

_Conquest?_ He sneered. _Barely worthy of the name... _

The 'beautiful' Mrs. Collins, as he thought of her at the time, had fallen into Tavington's bed eagerly enough, after the briefest of seductions. He had smiled at her, spoken sweet nothing's with his husky English accent and she had been in a swoon. He knew twenty minutes after meeting her that she would be visiting his bed that night.

He had not been wrong, though he was vastly disappointed with her performance. Her husband was handsome, Tavington supposed, young and well built, only a year or two older than Tavington himself. But he must have been woefully inexperienced in the bedroom. It was said that he was completely enamored of his wife and never visited any other woman's beds which, Tavington suspected, was the problem. The faithful Mr. Collins needed the education a man could only earn by visiting as many bed chambers as he could.

It was a few months ago, at the end of summer, when he visited here last. Tavington had been traveling with the army for many weeks and his own wounds were only just healing when they had reached the Collins' plantation. When he met Mrs. Collins, he had hoped she would prove to be an exceptional bedmate, but he had had to lead her, teach her, coax her with every little thing. He did not mind doing that with a willing virgin, but a married woman of ten years? She did do better the next night and by the time he left she had finally started to meet his expectations.

_I wonder if Mr. Collins has benefitted from my teachings?_

Tavington slowed the column as they approached the house, to appear unthreatening. Mr. and Mrs. Collins, and some of their servants, were waiting for them at the front of their manor. He looked over his shoulder to check on Lyra again, she gave him a tremulous smile but she was clutching hard to his waist, the riding and the attack where taking their toll.

He thought she looked tired, wilted. Still, she was far more beautiful than this silly woman standing by her husband in all her finery, staring at Tavington with adoration and a ridiculous smile on her face.

Tavington dismounted and gently helped Lyra down, though she stood by the horse shyly while Tavington strode toward Mr. Collins. He gave Mrs. Collins a cursory bow but otherwise ignored her. He did not take her hand and kiss it, did not give her the smoldering looks and warm smiles of his previous visit.

"Colonel Tavington!" Mr. Collins said, stepping forward, his face full of concern, his eyes kept darting toward Lyra curiously. "A rebel attack?" He asked, then turned to several of his servants, clapping his hands. "Quickly, get these men inside and fetch Dr. Johnson. Come inside, Colonel, be welcome. Are you wounded too? You look well enough."

"Thank you for the care of the Dragoons. I am not wounded, though your concern is appreciated." Tavington tried to keep the iciness out of his tone, the man was a known Loyalist, and he was helping him willingly, after all.

"I have a young woman in my care, which I have promised to see safely to Charles Town. Miss Mathan has seen some horrors yesterday, and was herself wounded, and I hope you will give her all possible care." He beckoned Lyra over, and she came forward hesitantly, taking Tavington's arm.

"Of course, of course! Miss Mathan, you say?" Mr. Collins turned to Lyra, who was clutching Tavington's arm tightly. She looked to Tavington for reassurance and he nodded, though he wanted to wrap her in his arms. Perhaps that is what he found so alluring about her, her timid nature and need to be protected. Though she had shown some fire as well. It made for an intoxicating combination.

Mr. Collins' next words snapped Tavington back to attention. "Miss _Lyra_ Mathan? Good Lord, you've grown! I've not seen you in years! Don't you recognise me, my dear? I am your cousin! Come in child... Mrs. Collins, will you see to our cousin's needs? Of course you will my dear."

Lyra stood still, obviously shocked at being addressed as a cousin, and spoken to with such familiarity. Tavington was every bit as shocked as Lyra.

Mrs. Collins wore a fixed, sickly smile on her face. She had been staring at Tavington with adoration, until Lyra came forward and to take his arm, and then her eyes had narrowed with jealousy. He did not know Mrs. Collins well, but he resolved to keep an eye on her, in case she was cruel to Lyra out of spite.

"Cousin?" Tavington asked, as Mrs. Bryant approached. He introduced her, though it turned out there was no need there, either.

"Mrs. Bryant was Miss Mathan's governess and is still her close companion. She will help Mrs. Collins care for her, I'm sure." He said coolly, with a pointed look at Mrs. Collins. She lowered her eyes under his hard stare and Tavington knew she understood him perfectly.

"Of course, I know Mrs. Bryant well. You refused to come and work for us, as I recall!" Mr. Collins turned to the woman as she came forward. "My children would have thrived under your care."

"I'm sure your children are thriving just fine without me Mr. Collins. Mrs. Ambridge is an excellent governess. You know full well I could never leave Lyra." She replied firmly but with a smile.

"Indeed, they have thrived, and your loyalty to my cousin Claire is a testament to you. Good Lord, Lyra, are you really eighteen now? Are you finally able to claim your birthright?" Mr. Collins asked as he led the way to the parlor.

"Yes," Lyra answered quietly. "Small though it is."

"Oh, I think you will be pleasantly surprised, when you speak with Mr. Sampson. Your mother was a clever woman, my dear. I will not say anything more than that." He said with a knowing smile. "It's a good thing you are returning. Charles Town has been a sad place, with no Mathan's in residence!"

Tavington stood close to Lyra, his face set hard and cold. He held his head high and stared down his nose at everyone, not liking what he was hearing. It had never occurred to him that she might truly be of one of the influential Colonial families and he did not want to consider the ramifications seducing one such as she.

"I think I remember you now, Mr. Collins," came Lyra's quiet reply. "Do you have a younger brother in your care, named... Tristan? I was just telling Colonel Tavington that my father used to carry us on his shoulders when we were children. We played together - he stole a pie and ate so much he was sick. He tried to blame me..."

"I most certainly did not, dear cousin Lyra! I have a very different recollection of that event!" Came a laughing voice from the doorway. A handsome young man strode forward, his eyes hot on Lyra. Tavington stood rigid, regarding the younger man coldly.

"Oh my Lord, Tristan...?" Lyra laughed delightedly.

Tavington ground his jaw with displeasure. The young man stepped forward, taking her by the hand and placing a light kiss on it. Then he laughed, and pulled her into a hug. It was all Tavington could do to keep his hand from his sword. He was stunned at the force of his jealousy and took several deep breaths, trying to get himself under control..

_I only met her two days ago! _

When Lyra pulled back from the hug, Tavington thought she was covering a grimace – _oh yes, the bruises…_

"Oh, it's good to see you, my little emerald! I've thought of you often, wasting away on that farm. It will be so good to have you home in Charles Town!"

"Little emerald! I haven't been called that in... Well, since the last time I saw you, I suppose!" Lyra laughed. "And you did too steal that pie!"

The young whelp threw his hands up in good natured defeat. "Alright, alright. I did, and it was in very poor taste that I tried to blame you. Can you ever forgive me?"

Tavington was trying not to snarl, he recognized the smile the young whelp was flashing at Lyra, and it was the same one he flashed when he targeted a woman for seduction. He wondered how close the family connection was, cousins often married, after all.

Tavington moved even closer to Lyra, his arm almost touching hers as he stared the youth down with glittering blue eyes. The move toward Lyra and the stern look were not lost on the handsome youth, who lost his flashy smile and swallowed hard. Tavington had a reputation, after all, there were not many who knew of him that did not fear him.

_She is mine until I tire of her, and I certainly will not lose her to a _**_boy_**_..._

"Of course I will forgive you, Tristan," Lyra smiled, oblivious to Tavington's tension and jealousy, "You were punished already, with such a belly ache, if I recall. It would be unseemly for me to not forgive you..."

Emboldened by her smile, the boy forgot, or chose to ignore, Tavington's icy disdain. "Will you dance with me, at the Covington ball? You will be in Charles Town just in time to attend."

Lyra hesitated, suddenly at a loss for what to say.

"Give her room to breathe, boy." Tavington growled coldly under his breath. He never could hold his tongue, Lord Cornwallis always kept Tavington away when he bought influential Colonials through the camp at Moncks Corner, knowing the Colonel would let loose his scathing tongue at the slightest provocation. The boy jerked back from Tavington in surprise, then turned and walked away.

_Did you really think I would allow you to flirt with her, right under my nose?_ He thought with contempt.

Tavington turned to Lyra, and sighed with vexation. She was staring at the floor, face flushed with embarrassment. Tavington took a deep breath, ready to smooth things over with the girl, when Mrs. Collins entered the parlor.

"Cousin Lyra," She snapped in a cold voice, full of dislike. "If you will follow me, there is a bath ready for you and I have a change of clothes for you as well. Come along!"

Lyra glanced at Tavington, green eyes wide and wary, sensing the other woman's hostility if not the cause.

_I cannot protect you in your bath... _He thought to himself. _Though I would certainly like too... _He smiled at the thought, cold eyes warming for Lyra.

"Mrs. Bryant?" Tavington began, "Will you accompany - " Mrs. Bryant was already sweeping toward them.

"Of course I will, Colonel Tavington!" She interrupted almost rudely. She was careful of her tone, just. She swept Lyra up in a flurry of conversation, something about a lovely dress waiting for her, should fit her almost perfectly, with a little adjustment here and there. Their voices trailed off as they left the room.

"Colonel, the doctor is here." Mr. Collins informed him a little while later. Tavington pushed thoughts of Lyra naked in her bath out of his mind, as he followed Mr. Collins.

His men where made as comfortable as possible considering their injuries. All of them shared one room, improvised into a sick room. The doctor was already there, examining their injuries.

"Colonel Tavington," Doctor Johnson greeted him. "Your men will be fine, none of the wounds were mortal. They will need at least one nights rest before they are fit for travel, I will come back tomorrow to see to them, and let you know my opinion of their wounds then."

Tavington nodded and thanked the man. He opted to spend some time with his injured men, rather than returning right away to the parlor. He chatted with them for quite some time, but his mood was dark and he eventually fell silent, trying to swallow his swelling rage over the rebel attack all over again. Five dead Dragoons, more wounded, the Ghost still free and the women rescued. It was a disaster.

"Don't worry, Colonel. We'll get him. He can't hide out there forever, it won't be long now." Tavington turned to Lieutenant Evans, the worst of the wounded, incredulous.

"You are lying there with a bullet wound in your shoulder, Lieutenant, and you seek to cheer me?" He shook his head, giving a low laugh. Then he stood up tall and nodded. "You are absolutely right. They cannot hide forever. We will capture this Ghost and watch him hang."

"Yes, Sir!" They all said.

"You heard the doctor, you need your rest," He nodded at each man in turn, as he left the room, his rage had cooled considerably.

_I wonder where they took Lyra for her bath. _He knew it would be no use trying to find her, that governess would be at her side. _She has probably finished up by now, anyway._

"Colonel?" Came a woman's voice behind him.

He was alone in the hall, with Mrs. Collins. She had been waiting for him, he realized. She approached him with what she thought was a seductive smile. "It is so good to see you again, you've kept yourself from me for far too long."

"My duties have kept me away, madam. Though I wonder why you would imagine I should return here, I certainly had no reason to do so before today."

She stared at him in surprise, then her eyes narrowed in anger. "You were well satisfied last time you visited, if I recall."

"Yes, I enjoyed your hospitality - and you were quite eager to offer it. But I will not need your services this time Mrs. Collins." He kept his voice neutral, even pleasant as though they were discussing the weather. He turned to walk away from her, but she grabbed his arm to halt him.

"It's Miss Mathan, isn't it? You realize she only has her father's inheritance, barely £2000 a year, I'm told! You've turned your sights on a pauper in that white haired chit!" She hissed at him.

Tavington's rage flowed through him; he stifled the urge to grab the woman by the shoulders and push her back against the wall.

His rage must have shown on his face and when he took two quick threatening steps toward the woman she backed away, her eyes wide with fear. Tavington stood towering over her, his glittering eyes staring down at her with cold anger.

"Careful how you speak of _cousin_ Lyra, Mrs. Collins." He growled quietly, "I will tolerate no ill manners from you, where she is concerned. This will be your only warning, if I have one complaint from her regarding your treatment of her..."

Tavington pulled back, and held her gaze coldly, before turning on his heels and striding away.

He headed outside to check on the Dragoon's improvised camp, and the rebel captives. When he was satisfied that his orders were being carrying out, that his men were comfortable and the two captives well hidden, he went back to the house, heading through the corridors toward the parlor.

"What do we know about Colonel Tavington?" That young whelp's voice came through the door of the parlor. Tavington slowed to listen.

"I've heard a lot of things about the Colonel. I'm not sure if they are true. He was quite the gentleman last time he was here, if a little distant and cold." Mr. Collins replied.

"Quite the gentleman," came the young whelp's voice again. "I thought he would go for my throat, and all I did was ask Lyra to dance with me. She is my cousin after all! Did you see the way he was looking at her?" His words turned sullen. "I knew her first."

"Yes…" Mr. Collins said quietly. "I did see the way he was looking at her, and I confess, I felt discomforted by it. Is he a man of means? Does he have wealth of his own? I would hate for Lyra to fall into the hands of another brute who will squander her wealth when she comes into it."

"Wealth?" The whelp asked. "I thought she only had two thousand a year. Surely Tavington would earn far more than that as Colonel. He would not need her for her money, even if his family were buggered."

Tavington curled his lips at that last, as his family was, of course, 'buggered'. Their conversation cut off, he heard a door open inside the room, and Mrs. Bryant's voice came to him.

"Mr. Collins, I have just seen Lyra's room and it is perfect. Mrs. Collins is being quite generous, also, providing Lyra with clothes and other necessities."

"Of course, Mrs. Bryant, Lyra is family after all. Tristan and I were just discussing Tavington's seeming regard for Lyra. Tell me, can you shed some light? You've been traveling with them both. How did you come to be in Colonel Tavington's care?"

Tavington was not sure how long he should let the conversation continue before interrupting. If Mrs. Bryant decided to tell the Collins' he had been bedding Lyra… Tavington was not worried for himself, he would be upbraided by Cornwallis yet again, but Lyra – it would be her ruin. Then again, if he stayed silent he might learn more about the girl.

With a quick look over his shoulder to be certain he was alone, he decided to stay quiet and listen.

"We were traveling to Charles Town and the Dragoons came by a farm where we had taken shelter for the night, they were scouting for rebels. Colonel Tavington decided to take Lyra into his care when he heard her story, and we have been traveling with them since."

Tavington smiled slowly, _she is loyal to Lyra, she will not expose us. She would like nothing more to see me hang, I am sure, but she will keep her silence._

"That does not explain his obvious regard for the girl, which she seems to return I might add."

"Yes, she does return it, though I like it not. We know nothing about Tavington, nothing at all, except the horrible rumors we have heard about his ruthlessness and ill treatment of Colonial civilians. He definitely has a temper." Mrs. Bryant replied.

"Has she been practicing on the piano my uncle sent Claire?"

"Alas, Smith sold it a couple years ago, so Lyra is not as proficient as she should be. She is excellent with her paints and drawings though, you should have seen some of her artwork. Her letters are excellent and Claire and I taught her dances as well. She will do fine when she enters Charles Town, I doubt anyone will complain of her manners. She is so timid though, thanks to her Stepfather's ill treatment, I despair for her. She will be hard done by, when she meets some of the more mean spirited ladies who will become her acquaintances. I confess that is half her attraction to Colonel Tavington, he truly is quite attentive of her and Lyra is becoming more and more reliant on his strength to protect her."

"It's a good thing you have been there to teach and protect her, Mrs. Bryant, it will certainly help her to find a decent husband."

There was silence for a while, then -

"Has Tavington taken liberties, Mrs. Bryant?" Mr. Collins asked gently. "They really seemed far too familiar with each other."

"I'll say." The boy scoffed.

Mrs. Bryant did not hesitate. "Of course not, I have been with Lyra the entire time we have been traveling with the Dragoons. I suspect their affection for each other has developed as a natural consequence of being in one another's company under stressful circumstances. Tavington has protected her, and when the rebels attacked, Smith was there. He got hold of Lyra, he beat her quite severely, but then Tavington was there and he… _dealt_… with Smith." Her voice rang with approval at that last.

"_Dealt_ with?" Collins asked.

Mrs. Bryant drew a deep breath. "Tavington killed Smith." She said quickly.

"_Killed_?" The whelp's voice squeaked and Tavington sneered.

"Well…" Collins said faintly. "Well, well, well! So that's done! We no longer need to concern ourselves with him – Lyra is free!"

"Is she?" Mrs. Bryant asked quietly. "If she is becoming enamored of Tavington, then I am uncertain she will look to other men when they start courting her in Charles Town."

Tavington decided it was time to put an end to that line of thought before they started deciding Lyra's future for her.

They all shuffled with poorly hidden guilt and concern when Tavington walked into the room, clearly wondering how much he had heard.

"Thank you again, Mr. Collins for your care, the Dragoon wounded are settled in comfortably and the doctor said their wounds will heal well with rest. He is coming back tomorrow, to advise whether we can travel or not, so we may need to impose on your hospitality for another night yet."

"No rush, Sir, no rush. Stay as long as you need!"

Tavington, seated on a comfortable chaise, nodded his head graciously and accepted a glass of brandy.

"Mrs. Bryant was just telling us about the rebel attack, you really… killed… Lyra's stepfather?" Mr. Collins asked.

"Certainly. He had already injured her quite severely before I was able to reach her, unfortunately. But yes, he is dead." Tavington took a sip of the brandy calmly, watching them exchange looks with each other.

"How bad are her wounds?"

"Bad," came Mrs. Collins voice, she came into the room her eyes fixed on her husband. The gentlemen all stood as she seated herself, and she avoided looking at Tavington. "I saw her in her bath; she is absolutely covered in bruises. I'm surprised nothing was broken!"

Mr. Collins took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, clearly grieved.

"Lyra is stronger than she looks." Mrs. Bryant assured him. "I inspected her bruises this morning, Mrs. Collins. She is not that badly wounded - nothing is broken. She has recovered time and time again and will be fine, with some rest."

"Yes, rest…" Mrs. Collins mused, her brows drawn down in thought. Tavington wondered what she was up to; she was obviously plotting something... "You know," She continued slowly. "We are heading to Charles Town in a week or two; perhaps our cousin should travel with us, instead of with the Dragoons? She is quite safe now, and she really should not return to Charles Town on the back of a horse in the company of soldiers with only Mrs. Bryant for her companion. What would everyone say?"

Mrs. Bryant nodded in agreement, "Perhaps it would be for the best. It really is most unseemly, I have no wish to continue to ride on the back of a horse, myself."

Tavingon's grip threatened to break the delicate crystal goblet. He stared at Mrs. Collins and Mrs. Bryant in icy silence.

"I made a promise to see her safely to Charles Town," Tavington said in a quiet voice. "I do not like to break my promises. I will remain here for two nights, if the Dragoons are healed enough to travel, Miss Mathan will be as well."

"Come now, Colonel." Mr. Collins said, clearly in agreement with the ladies. "No one is more appreciative of your efforts in protecting Lyra than myself. But the girl should be with her family, and should travel in the comfort of a carriage. It is simply not fitting, traveling in this manner any further, now that there is no further need."

Tavington tried to keep his temper under control; he could feel it boiling just under the surface. He had not been expecting this, and was not ready to give Lyra up just yet.

"Do you truly believe you are safe, traveling on your own through rebel infested countryside? I have heard of many attacks on Loyalists, trying to make their way to Charles Town from their plantations. They are even being attacked in their homes _on_ their plantations.

"The rebels are growing in number and in ferocity. Miss Mathan is in particular danger, due to her connection to the rebels; they may see her traveling with me as a betrayal, especially as it led to Thomas Smith's death. They may seek revenge, which will put your family in danger also. No, this is not open for discussion; it is a military issue now. I will continue to escort Miss Mathan as planned. You will acquire a carriage for her as I quite agree, there is no further need for her to be riding."

"Colonel," Mrs. Collins started to say, "Be reasonable. The girl will stay with us – "

"Mr. Collins," Tavington said crisply, ignoring the woman who was clearly trying to separate Tavington from her rival, "As I said, it is not open for discussion. Do you have access to another carriage?"

"What is not open for discussion?" Lyra asked, entering the room. The men all stood again, Tavington staring at her in open amazement. He felt his throat go dry. She was beautiful before; in her simple dresses but now…

Lyra was wearing a dress of pale blue silk, trimmed with lace. Her white blonde hair was elaborately piled high on her head, with tendrils trailing down delicately. She wore no jewelry, though she hardly needed it, with those green eyes sparkling.

_Little emerald indeed - those eyes! _He thought, gazing at her. _Leave her here, not see her for days, or weeks? I hardly think so…_ She looked fresh and lively, no longer the wilting flower. The bath had worked wonders on her.

Tavington saw the young boy out of the corner of his eye, also staring at her with frank admiration.

Lyra walked to Tavington and sat down beside him on the chaise. He noticed the others exchanging concern filled glances, they did not like Lyra choosing to sit beside him.

"What did I miss?" She asked him.

"Your cousins are concerned for your welfare, Miss Mathan, and desire for you to remain here with them." He watched her face carefully, as she put her hand to her throat, her expression turned fearful and desperate.

"But you promised, Colonel Tavington, you would escort me to Charles Town." She said quietly pleading.

"And I intend to keep that promise, Miss Mathan. We were just discussing options right now; the concern is making certain you travel to Charles Town in the comfort of a carriage, _and_ with the safety of the Dragoons.

"Here is what I propose we do," he turned back to Mr. Collins, in a hard voice that made it clear it was not a proposal. They would do as he commanded. "You will acquire another carriage, it will be needful – I am aware your carriage will already be filled with your immediate family. You will make yourself ready to travel from here within the week, and I will escort you to Charles Town myself. I do still have some work to be done in this area with the rebels, so I will ride out each day with the Dragoons and return each evening. I will leave a guard of Dragoons here, to keep your family safe."

They argued of course, at first at least. Colonel Tavington stared them down with icy authority, and Mr. Collins quickly acquiesced. Tavington nodded in approval – at least Collins understood the situation perfectly..

He felt Lyra relax beside him; she had been tense through the whole exchange, not wanting to be left behind with family she barely remembered.


	10. Chapter 10 Impressive, isn't he?

Lyra was exhausted by the time dinner was done. She would have loved nothing more than to have sought her bed, but she did not want to be considered ill mannered and so joined the others in the parlor for the evening. Some of the Dragoons were present, Bordon, Wilkins, Richards and of course, Colonel Tavington.

He was sitting beside her chatting with her quietly, to the exclusion of everyone else. Lyra noticed the looks of longing Tristan darted toward her and the jealous, angry looks she received from Mrs. Collins; she had no idea what she had done to earn the woman's ire.

Lyra shook her head, pushing her cousin's wife from her thoughts.

"How are the wounded, Colonel?" She asked Tavington. She was still very confused about how she felt about his men. They had been kind to her, but a three of them had forced those women… She shuddered, trying not to think about it.

"They are fine, resting now. Their wounds will take a few days to heal; it is a good thing we are staying here for the rest of the week."

"Is it?" Lyra asked quietly, with a quick flick of her eyes toward Mrs. Collins.

"Do not concern yourself with her, my sweet." He whispered, "I have spoken with her quite firmly, she will not be rude to you again."

"Why would she want to be? I've done her no harm…" She hung her head and fixed her gaze on her hands in her lap.

"You are a very beautiful woman, Lyra. Some women are envious of beautiful women."

Lyra felt her face blush at his warm words, and she asked boldly, "Will you come to me tonight?"

She glanced at him; seeing his small gratified smile made her flush deepen.

"If you desire it. We will need to be very circumspect…"

She nodded, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. _How brazen! Asking him to come to me… Mrs. Bryant would be horrified. As if I could make a complaint against him now!_

Tavington chuckled low in his throat and Lyra shot him an irritated glance.

"You're laughing at me!" She accused.

"No, my sweet. I confess I was quite concerned that you would turn me away after my ill treatment of you last night, and now that you are safely surrounded by family... It seems my fears were unfounded."

"I'll admit that being with 'family' has provided a modicum of… _Balance_ between us …" She smiled, and then laughed aloud at his grimace. "You do like to be in full control, don't you?"

Before he could answer, Tristan came over to join them. Lyra could clearly see he was intimidated by Tavington, but it seemed he would not let it faze him. Tavington stiffened at Lyra's side, he truly was quite jealous of her cousin.

"Cousin," Tristan said. "Would you join us in a game of cards?" Lyra looked over to see the other settling down at the table, and her face flushed red again.

"I don't know how to play…"

"I'll teach you!" Tristan brightened with enthusiasm. Lyra shot a quick glance at Tavington then rose from the chaise.

"I'll join you." Tavington said, rising when Lyra did. Tristan's smile became sickly.

She was seated between Tavington and Tristan; Mrs. Bryant was seated with Richards. Mrs. Collins joined them as well, sitting across from Lyra.

Tristan started her instruction, helping her get through the first few games. Tavington kept his face carefully neutral, but she could feel his tension increasing by the moment.

To placate him, she hooked her foot around his under the table and he gave her a small smile of pleasure.

After a few moments of their feet nudging and rubbing under the table, Lyra felt something brush her foot, and jerked in surprise. Tavington seemed surprised as well, and he looked coldly at Mrs. Collins.

_Oh my word! She is rubbing her foot against his, too! _Mrs. Collins expression was hooded, and she had a smile of adoration on her face. Lyra jerked her foot away from Tavington's, suddenly furious.

_Has he bedded her? Or perhaps it's just the wine making her bold… Tavington is certainly handsome. I can see women throwing themselves at him. _

Tavington's own reaction allayed her fears. He looked sternly at the woman, and pulled his legs back from her reach. Mrs. Collins wore a look of disappointment, she caught Lyra's eyes and Lyra felt uncomfortable under the other woman's jealous, hate filled glare.

_At least I know why she doesn't like me, now. But she is married! And to my cousin! What is she thinking?_

The moment past. Eventually Lyra became too tired to think, she had started to get the hang of the game, and almost felt able to play it without Tristan's assistance, but she started to yawn and her eyes continually threatened to drift shut.

Tavington noticed her exhausted state at once.

"Miss Mathan, do you wish Mrs. Bryant to escort you to your room?"

_No, I wish you too…_ Lyra did not voice the thought.

She nodded, "Yes, I think that would be for the best. Do you mind, Mrs. Bryant?" Silly question, Mrs. Bryant was already moving around the table toward her, her face filled with concern.

Lyra rose up on unsteady feet, Tavington and Tristan rising with her. It was Tavington's arm she accepted though, and she thought vaguely that Tristan looked offended and disappointed. Tavington supported her out of the room, following Mrs. Bryant as she led the way.

When they were half way up the stairs, Tavington took her into his arms and carried her. She was already drifting in and out of sleep against his shoulder before they reached her room.

"Should she be this sleepy?" She heard Tavington ask Mrs. Bryant, his voice full of concern, as he laid her on the bed. "It has come on very suddenly."

"No, it hasn't. She has been tired all day; she should have taken a rest after her bath. I suggested it, but no. She had to come down to the parlor to spend time with you." Mrs. Bryant said, clearly disapproving.

"Is there anything I can do for her? What does she need?"

"Sleep, Colonel Tavington," Lyra heard her friend's tart reply, "A full nights worth. Perhaps you could keep to your own bed tonight? I know you are planning on visiting her here."

Lyra opened her eyes, watching as Tavington, suddenly filled with rage, took a quick threatening step forward to stand over Mrs. Bryant.

"Do not press me, woman." He said coolly, pinning the older woman with his piercing gaze. "I will provide her with everything she needs or desires, but she is mine and I will take her where, and when, I wish."

Mrs. Bryant took a deep breath, and went on in a milder tone, "Just sleep, for now, Sir. That is all she needs."

Tavington nodded. "I will retire to my room, so that I am close by. Come to me if she needs anything."

With that, he strode from Lyra's room. Mrs. Bryant turned to Lyra, letting out a loud breath, she reached down to take off the girls boots and cover her with a blanket.

"Impressive, isn't he?" Mrs. Bryant asked. Lyra just smiled, as sleep took her.

::::::::::::::

Tavington walked silently down the hall to Lyra's room, half expecting to see Mrs. Bryant standing guard or Mrs. Collins hiding in wait.

No, after his chat with his former lover regarding her conduct towards Lyra and her attempt to separate them, she was probably too fearful to try any more foolishness.

All was still, and Tavington made it to Lyra's room without incident. The door was not locked, and he entered silently to find Lyra fast asleep. He stared down at her sleeping form for some time, his eyes soaking in her beauty in the sparse candlelight. She looked so relaxed, peaceful, it was almost a crime to wake her...

He removed his clothes silently and slid into the bed beside her to take her into his arms. Lyra stirred but did not wake as she snuggled groggily into his chest.

_It feels good to have her in my arms again,_ he thought as he stroked her hair and back. He stared up at the ceiling, remembering his second little private chat with Mrs. Katie Collins.

Tavington had been in a fury all evening, since entering the dining hall to discover that Mrs. Collins had seated Lyra next to the young whelp Tristan, and Tavington was to sit with Mrs. Collins at the other end of the table. He had had to sit and watch as Tristan flirted with Lyra, charming her and rekindling their friendship. Mrs. Collins had sat with a smirk on face the whole while.

Later in the evening, after he had carried Lyra to bed, Tavington finally cornered the jealous woman, as she was walking by on the way to see to some household task or other. She gave a squawk of fright when he grabbed her by the arm and, placing a hand over her mouth, dragged her into a nearby empty room. Tavington had pushed her up against a wall, face forward; and pinned her bodily from behind.

"Mrs. Collins, you seemed to have misunderstood me earlier," he hissed in her ear. "I will not be paying court to you, now or ever again. Your feeble attempts to entice me will stop. You will cease being rude to Miss Mathan. If you continue to displease me in any regard, especially concerning Lyra, your husband will learn that I have tasted of your... Delights." He paused, letting his words sink in.

"Do you think he will set you aside, when he learns you sat astride me, squealing with pleasure? That I taught you to pleasure me with your mouth?" Tavington whispered softly against her ear. "I am fairly certain he will not look upon the affair kindly."

Mrs. Collins was weeping, of course. Tavington drew back from her to watch dispassionately as her knees gave way and she collapsed to the floor.

"Furthermore, you will place Lyra at my side for all future meals while we are here. Your efforts to separate her from me will stop. Do not provoke me again, Mrs. Collins." He said coolly, and strode from the room without bothering to look back.

Now he lay with Lyra in her bed. He had come here to couple with her, of course, but he felt surprisingly content to have her in his arms, and it had been such a long day. Within minutes he was fast asleep as well.

He awoke to the pale light of dawn slowly brightening the room. Tavington jerked up quickly, disentangling himself from Lyra as he rose from the bed.

"Colonel?" Lyra asked sleepily. "What.."

"I have stayed too long my sweet; I must try and get back to my room unnoticed." He said as he began to dress himself.

"But…" She was having trouble waking up; seeming confused as she looked around. Then she sat up properly as everything came flooding back to her. Tavington enjoyed looking at her in her disheveled state, her white-blonde hair in a curly mess trailing over shoulders and down her back.

"You did not wake me!" She exclaimed finally, her green eyes wide with disappointment.

Tavington smiled and leaned forward to brush his lips against hers gently. "Tonight, my sweet. You needed your sleep last night, but tonight… I plan on taking you again and again." He punctuated his words with kisses. "You might want to consider having an afternoon nap today while I am out with the Dragoons."

"But I wanted you… And now you will be gone for the whole day? I'm not sure I like this new arrangement, after all…" She looked ready to pout.

Tavington chuckled; he sat on the bed again and took her gently into his arms, conscious of her bruises. The dawn was getting ever lighter, and he was listening for sounds of movement outside Lyra's room. There were none, so he decided they could take a little risk, just this once, considering they were both filled with such need for each other.

"We must be quick, my sweet." He was rewarded with a bright smile, as Lyra beamed at him with anticipation.

He let his half drawn breeches fall back to the floor and climbed back into the bed with Lyra.

"Sit astride me, my sweet – your bruises will not bother you so much."

Lyra held his gaze as she moved to straddle Tavington's hips with her shift bunched around her waist. He guided her until she was in place.

"Ah yes…" Tavington smiled up at Lyra, reaching up to push her hair from her face. She rested her hands on his chest as Tavington gripped her hips, gently guiding her to move back and forth along his length.

"That's it – perfect," he breathed.

Lyra swallowed, her face flushed bright with pleasure, as she glided along his erection, enjoying the feel of his silky hardness against her folds and his tip nudging on her hard pearl. Her breathing became labored, and she sighed when she felt him at her entrance.

Lyra smiled when his body jerked with pleasure, and she allowed his length to enter her fully, suddenly pushing down hard on him.

Tavington growled and reached up under her shift with one handle to cradle her breast, his thumb working lightly over her nipple. The fingers of his other hand quested within her folds, searching for her hard little pearl. He was rewarded with her sighs and moans when he circled around and over the sensitive spot with quick, firm motions as he thrust up into her.

They were both as quiet as they could be, though the sound of their heavy breathing and muffled moans quickly filled the room. Tavington was holding his climax at bay, waiting for Lyra to have her needs filled first.

Lyra pushed down against him, meeting his thrusts with abandon until she finally arched her back and let out a long sigh. Tavington could feel her contractions and pulses around his member, and he finally spilled his seed inside her with an explosive sigh.

He did manage to steal back to his room unnoticed, but it was a near thing. As soon as his door was shut, he heard Mrs. Bryant knocking at Lyra's door.


End file.
